


Keen Appetites

by TheRealFailWhale



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Falling In Love, Human Spike (BtVS), Poetry, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare Quotations, angel is liam, eventually there will be a seeing red moment i'm so sorry, liam and spike are roommates, shakespeare is awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-07 11:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealFailWhale/pseuds/TheRealFailWhale
Summary: Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU where William Pratt-Pike is a human studying poetry at Sunnydale University. He’s in his final semester, taking an increasingly reflective class on Shakespeare taught by Dr Rupert Giles and an easy elective where he meets a blonde girl who changes his life.
Relationships: Spike & Angel, Spike/Buffy Summers, Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg, William Pratt/Buffy Summers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	1. Syllabus

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the subject I really wanted to write my undergrad thesis on. there will eventually be a lot of shakespeare discussions because why wouldn't spike like shakespeare?

“William Pratt-Pike?”

“Here.”

Will didn’t look up from his notebook where he was absent-mindedly scribbling words. They didn’t correspond to anything--yet--but they’d been floating in his mind that morning and his mother always said it was better to write things down than forget them. Had always said. Still not used to that.

The professor continued taking attendance, not knowing everyone’s name as it was both the first day of the semester and this bloke was new. How Sunnydale University had managed to lure an actual Englishman to their shoddy English department Will couldn’t guess, but it couldn’t be the pay. Tuition here was too low for SU to afford incentive pay.

“Right, then,” the Englishman said lightly, pausing to clear his throat. “I am Dr. Rupert Giles, newly arrived in Sunnydale with the intent of teaching you all Shakespeare. I understand the former British studies professor was not, er, following the curriculum as laid out by the department. Hopefully, you will find me a suitable replacement.”

_ Not following the curriculum _ . An understatement. Dr. Burns had been one of the stupidest professors Will had ever experienced, and his treatment of Shakespeare was laughable at most.

“In any case, as this is one of the advanced Shakespeare courses, we will be examining several texts with a critical eye rather than focusing on the histories or comedies as a genre,” Giles continued as he leaned back against his desk. “Assuming you are all familiar with the Bard--” Will rolled his eyes at this persistent nickname. “--you will not be shocked that the women in his works are frequently subjected to horrible treatment. Lavinia. Lucrece. Isabella. These women are the victims of rape or attempted rape, but the text’s handling of the perpetrators leaves much to be desired.”

“Dr. Giles?” asked a girl in the front row. Will didn’t remember her name, though they’d had several classes together. He wasn’t even sure they were in the same year.

“Yes, er--” Giles consulted his attendance list. “Ms. Sloane?”

“Will all the stuff we read deal with rape?” Sloane asked, sounding nervous.

“Yes, they will,” Giles replied calmly. “I understand it’s a difficult subject, but I think it will be enlightening to examine these texts in a modern context. However, if you do not think this class is for you, I will not be insulted should you choose to drop it.”

There were only fourteen other students in the class, Will observed. If Giles was encouraging them to drop the class, he wouldn’t be left with much to work with. Which was maybe his point. Will snorted, bringing Giles’ attention on him.

“Yes, Mr. Pratt-Pike?” he asked politely enough, but with a suggestion of intimidation beneath it.

“Just Pike,” Will said with a cough to clear his throat, as though he hadn’t just laughed, noting Giles’ surprise upon hearing his own accent reflected back at him.

“Very well, Mr. Pike, did you have something you wanted to add?”

“Nope,” Will said innocently enough.

With a sniff, Giles picked up a stack of papers and began handing them out. “This is the syllabus for this class. I suggest you familiarize yourself with the policies outlined, as well as my stance on absences. I understand the desire to skip class, but if you are absent too frequently there will be consequences.”

Will withdrew from the discussion and returned to his notebook, pausing only to scratch out the titles that he’d need to buy.  _ Measure for Measure. Titus Andronicus. Rape of Lucrece _ . Giles clearly intended to fulfill his promise of examining the texts in depth, as Will had never had another class that only focused on three works. Light reading, at least.

By the end of the class, Will could pick out at least two likely candidates for dropping. A girl and a bloke, both of whom had asked the most questions about what to expect from the works. They probably hadn’t read the course closely enough, though admittedly it was vague: it was called Keen Appetites in Shakespeare. On the surface, it could’ve been about Shakespearean food, but Will had looked up the reference and figured out that it was from  _ Rape of Lucrece _ , and that alone had given the class away. He probably should’ve been taking another poetry writing class, but he’d grown bored with listening to the drivel of his classmates, choosing to only take two in his final semester. So here he was, preparing to listen to another Brit talk about a dead Brit for fifteen weeks.

A little before the designated end of class, Giles finished up. “Very well, we meet again on Wednesday. You can purchase the texts from the campus bookstore, or head into town. I understand there’s a decent secondhand bookshop on Main. Please read Act I of  _ Titus _ and bring something to discuss, whether a character or a specific passage. See you then.”

The usual scraping of chairs accompanied Will as he stood up and draped his bag over his shoulder. Sitting in the back meant he was already the last one to the door, but Giles called out to him before he could leave.

“Mr. Pike? A word?”

Will sighed and turned to face Giles with his arms crossed, face blank. Instead of looking put off by this unfriendly posture, Giles smiled.

“I will admit, it’s refreshing to hear another Brit in Sunnydale. I look forward to having you in class,” Giles admitted with a pleased expression as he held out his hand for Will to shake.

Will just stared at it, making no move to take the offering.

“Are you, er, always this difficult?” Giles asked, taking his hand back and shoving both in his pockets.

“Dad would say yes,” Will replied breezily.

“And your mum?” Giles shot back.

Will went cold and felt his face grow hard. But before he could mouth off, Giles’ face softened and he said gently, “Forgive me.”

Halted in his retort, Will glared at Giles. His instincts told him not to trust this man. The last Brit he’d talked to had been his granddad, at his mum’s funeral, and his granddad was notoriously  _ not _ a good person.

“When did she pass?” Giles went on carefully, not making eye contact as the sounds of students passing the classroom filled the awkward silence.

Throat thick, Will muttered, “Few months ago.”

“I am very sorry to hear it, Pike,” Giles murmured back. 

“Will.”

“Sorry?” Giles looked confused.

“Pike was mum’s--just call me Will,” he finished, cutting himself off before carrying on about her. Wouldn’t do him any good to talk about her more than he had already. Which wasn’t much, but Will hardly talked to his own dad about her.

“Very well. In that case I’m sorry for using your surname earlier. You could have specified without revealing anymore than a preference,” Giles pointed out kindly. “Nevertheless. I hope you enjoy the class, Will.”

Will only nodded before leaving Giles’ room, eager to escape the sympathy that Giles was offering him and refusing to think about why. 

He had about twenty minutes before he had to be in his next class--a phys ed elective, one that gave him enough credits to keep his scholarships, but was easy enough to not affect his other classes. He’d taken the obvious option with the intention of half-assing his way through it, plus his mate Liam was in it as well. Anything to make his last semester as laid back as possible.

“Alright, Liam?” Will greeted his friend when he wandered into the gym a few minutes later. Liam was leaning against the wall by the door but he unfolded himself to come stand by Will. Liam was a few inches taller than Will’s 5’ 9”, and had shaggy dark hair to Will’s tight, bleach blond curls. They both claimed to be the more attractive one in their friendship, but Will secretly thought Liam had him beat, the prick.

“Hey, Will. Check out the freshmen.” Liam jerked his head over toward a small group of mostly younger guys, clearly clustered together out of a need for connection. Will rolled his eyes when he noticed the obvious posturing the boys were doing for the benefit of the three girls standing nearby. “Looks like we’ve got competition,” joked Liam, chuckling as he too watched one of the boys stretch vigorously. Despite their efforts, the three young women hardly even glanced at the guys.

“Pretty sure the redhead and brunette aren’t a part of our league anyway,” Will observed to his friend, checking the women out. Two of them were standing close enough that Will was confident in his guess. The redhead was pretty cute too, so that was a disappointment.

“What about the blonde?” Liam asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on the third girl.

Will took her in. She was short, but pretty damn built. Her blonde hair came to her shoulders and bounced when she laughed, which was frequent as she talked to the girls. Her friends? Probably.

“Pretty sure she’s out of  _ your  _ league, at least,” Will said absently, still watching her.

Liam thumped his shoulder, letting out a snort loud enough to draw the blonde’s gaze toward them. Rather than pretend he hadn’t been looking at her, Will let the smile Liam’s laugh brought to his face carry over to her as he gave her a nod. He watched her eyes run up and down him before returning to her friends, answering neither his smile or his nod. Will raised an eyebrow. 

_ Like that, are we? _

“All right, kids, gather round,” shouted the phys ed teacher who Will knew also coached the football--no, soccer--team. “Gotta go over the class before we can start.”

“Come on, bleach,” Liam smirked as he walked toward the rest of the group, only smirking wider when Will scowled at the nickname. They stood a few feet from the girls, in back of the testosterone-fueled young boys. Will could practically smell their need to impress.

Will only half listened as the coach went over the policies and rules of the class. He’d taken enough of these lessons outside school and didn’t really need a lecture on what not to do.

“I know you lot won’t be satisfied until you get to hit something, so go ahead and pair off. We’ll start with a basic block,” the coach barked at them, stepping away as the class began partnering up.

Liam turned to him, clearly expecting them to partner up like always, but Will caught sight of a particularly revolting freshman walking toward the girls. Without thinking, he quickly stepped up to the blonde’s side, grinning when she turned a surprised look on him.

“Wanna dance?” Will asked impishly, slightly shocked at his own initiative. From the corner of his eye he saw Liam shake his head and move forward to partner with the guy who’d tried to approach the girls.

“You think I’m gonna be easy?” The blonde immediately seemed to hear her words and, as a lovely blush burned across her cheeks, said, “I mean--”

“I got the gist,” Will said, still grinning but trying to look as though his mind hadn’t immediately jumped to the same place. “And I’ll go easy on you if you ask nicely.”

She narrowed her eyes, which, Will noticed unhelpfully, were framed by some very fine eyelashes. She didn’t say anything though as they moved to stand in a line with the other students. Her two friends glanced at her nervously but took places next to them. Will guessed that Blondie had made them sign up with her. How adorable.

“Right then,” the coach shouted from the opposite end of the line. “Those on my right, you’re gonna try and punch. Hopefully I don’t need to tell you to keep your thumb outside your fist. On my left, you’re gonna use your arm--the one mirroring the punch--to sweep their arm outta the way. Like this.” The coach gestured one of the boys to throw a punch at him and deftly swept the kid’s arm to the side. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, how is this a class?” the redhead muttered grumpily. She was lined up to throw a punch at her girlfriend, and Will faced his partner.

“Ready to try and block me?” he asked the blonde, genuinely a little concerned about actually hitting her.

She smirked. “I’ll  _ try _ ,” she answered, putting a little emphasis on the try.

She hadn’t asked, politely or otherwise, but Will didn’t intend to really punch this girl. If--when--she didn’t block him, he didn’t want to break her nose.

With the sound of other students grunting and punching, Will threw a punch at the blonde girl, paying enough attention that he could pull back if necessary. But to his shock, the girl immediately swung her left arm up to clash against his forearm while her right first barreled straight toward his chest.

It was only Will’s years of practice that let him get an arm up in time to block her punch, and they stood there, forearms crossed against forearms, and stared each other down.

“You’ve done this before,” Will said accusingly, narrowing his own eyes. The blonde grinned and dropped one arm to throw another punch.

They traded several punches and blocks, and they were both smiling wide when the coach blew a whistle from the other end.

“Clearly some of you are taking this class for the easy A,” he said dryly. “Whatever. Just don’t hurt anyone else. Welcome to Self-Defense, y’all. Dismissed.”

“I’m Will,” he said as the rest of the class started chattering, offering his hand to the blonde in an echo of Giles’ earlier attempt . “Will Pike.”

“Did you say Spike?” she asked in confusion, the noise of the students echoing in the gym.

“No, Pike!” he replied a little louder, but she just smiled.

“Hi, Spike,” she said, taking his hand in her warm one. “I’m Buffy.”


	2. Making Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will (Spike) and Buffy get to know each other over coffee and hot chocolate, and Buffy is greeted by an old classmate.

“What kind of a name is Buffy?” Will asked as her friends approached, holding their stuff.

“Couldn’t tell you,” Buffy said, still smiling. “My mom’s never really been able to explain it to me. Oh, thanks, Wil,” and he was confused as she turned to the redhead and accepted a black backpack. Buffy turned back to him and chuckled at his expression. “Right. This is my friend Wil, short for Willow, and this is her girlfriend Tara,” Buffy gestured at the redhead and brunette respectively. “And this is Will Pike.”

“Or Spike, if you prefer,” he replied teasingly, but Buffy grinned.

“Spike it is.”

“What’s Spike?” asked Liam as he joined Will.

“Me, apparently,” he explained, bemused. “My new friend Buffy here has renamed me because of her deafness.”

“Ha,” she laughed sarcastically. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, turning her eyes to Liam. Will felt a brief jolt of possessiveness as she looked at his more attractive mate, but he squashed it down.

“This is Liam Byrne. He’s useless,” Will said lightly, smile widening when Buffy looked at him again.

“Don’t listen to my friend, he’s not from here.” Liam shoved Will and reached out a hand to Buffy. What was with all the handshakes today?

“Yeah, I’d figured that out.” Buffy twitched an eyebrow at him.

“England,” Will admitted reluctantly. In his experience, most girls associated his accent with Darcy and other terrible English stereotypes, so he usually let them wonder until explicitly asked. Thankfully, this comparison didn’t even seem to enter Buffy’s mind.

“So what are you doing in Sunnydale?” she asked, but they were cut off by the coach.

“Class is over, gym’s needed for practice,” he growled good-naturedly, jerking a thumb to the door. 

“We don’t have class,” the redhead, Willow, offered with a glance at Buffy. “We could grab lunch or something.”

“Damn, I’ve got philosophy,” Liam swore, checking his watch as they walked out into the hall. “Rain check for you lovely ladies, not so much for you, bleach. See you at home?”

“Ta.”

Liam waved to the girls as he trotted away, leaving the four of them to stand awkwardly.

“So, lunch?” Tara asked in a soft voice. She stood close to Willow, apparently very shy.

“I’m a bit peckish, if you lot are heading somewhere,” Will said lightly. He would leave the final invitation up to Buffy, as she was the one he actually wanted to get to know. It was polite of the couple to make the offer, but if she didn’t want him there…

“Yeah, let’s go to the coffee shop,” Buffy said at last, with a brief glance at him. 

The two girls immediately lead the way, clearly already familiar with the campus coffee shop even though it was only day one, leaving Will to walk beside Buffy.

“You’re a freshman, then?” he asked politely. Now that they didn’t have a classroom setting, Will was starting to feel nervous. He may have been older than her by several years, but it didn’t help him suddenly know how to make conversation.

“Yep,” Buffy answered with a nod, holding the straps of her backpack. Will looked away quickly, as this stance framed parts of her that he wasn’t ready to be caught staring at. “You?”

“Senior. Final semester, actually.”

“Wow. Did you start early or something, to graduate in the fall rather than spring?” she asked.

“I transferred some credits.” Please don’t let her ask where from.

“Where from?”

Damned curiosity.

“Cambridge,” Will sighed, looking over her head to the courtyard beyond her.

“You went to Cambridge?” Buffy’s eyes were wider than ever now, and Will assumed she was impressed. Americans usually were.

“Only for a year. Parents had to move out here and brought me with them.”

“That’s a come down,” Buffy sympathized, brushing some hair out of her face. Her hair looked soft…

“Eh,” Will shrugged. “Honestly it was more stress than it was worth. Sunnydale is much easier.”

“Isn’t college supposed to be stressful?” Buffy teased lightly, bumping him with her elbow and bringing a chuckle out of him.

He took a breath before lightly nudging Buffy’s shoulder in return, saying,“Sure, but it doesn’t do much for a bloke’s sanity to have that much pressure.” 

“What’s your major?” Buffy asked, seemingly not caring that he’d touched her. And after so little time knowing each other…

“English. Poetry, really.” Will braced himself for a laugh, prepared to defend his passion to this too pretty blonde girl.

Instead of laughing, Buffy said, “That’s cool. I kind of had you figured as some sort of physical education major,” she admitted with a laugh.

“What, me? Do I look like someone’s gym teacher?” he asked, faking indignation and holding his long arms out. He felt his black shirt rise enough to expose his stomach, but Buffy was running her eyes over him again so he stayed as he was.

“Maybe not a gym teacher,” she allowed with a coy smile. “But not my idea of a poet, anyway.”

Will chuckled and lowered his arms, feeling her judgment go straight to his cheeks. “We can’t all be fat, bearded wankers, y’know.”

“I can see that,” Buffy said as Willow turned around to say, “We’re here! But Buffy, I’m so sorry, Tara remembered that we signed up for a Wicca meeting this afternoon and we have to go.”

“That’s alright, Wil, I think Spike can keep me company.” Either Will was flattering himself or Buffy looked pleased that her friends were taking off.

“Have fun at your, er, Wicca thing?” Will said with a confused wave as the couple left them at the coffee shop door.

“Thanks! Buffy can explain,” Tara called to him as she and Willow turned a corner.

A little lost at this sudden turn of events, Will looked down at Buffy who was watching him carefully.

“Sure you don’t mind getting coffee with a stranger?” he asked, giving her one last chance to cop out.

“Strangers don’t try and punch each other,” she replied, opening the door for him and letting out a burst of coffee-scented air.

“Pretty sure they do sometimes…” He’d been to the small shop before, but only to run in for coffee and then back out again. It was filled with soft looking chairs, numerous tables, and quite a few chatty students grabbing lunch. Not really his favorite level of crowd, but he’d manage.

Will followed Buffy to the counter and stepped up when she tried to hand the barista cash. Over her complaint he said, “Least I can do after under-estimating you,” and enjoyed the smile she gave in return.

After they were handed their drinks--hot chocolate for Buffy, coffee for Will--he once more followed her as she lead them to some vacant chairs. She settled herself into one chair with her legs crossed beneath her, and sat watching Will as he took the chair next to her, making an effort not to sprawl out with his legs thrown wide. That wasn’t exactly the message he wanted to send. Yet. Maybe.

“So what’s your major?” he asked, carefully setting his full cup of coffee on the table between them.

“Not sure yet,” Buffy said, blowing on her hot chocolate. Damn lips. “Still have to get my gen eds out of the way before I really get to do anything fun.”

“True,” Will agreed. “But anything you’re leaning toward?”

She sat, thinking, still blowing on her hot chocolate, which was proving more distracting than anything else Will had encountered in his life.

“Sociology maybe?” Buffy scrunched her nose. “I don’t know. I never really thought about college, if you can believe it.”

“What brought you here then?”

“Wil,” she said, and for a brief, weird moment he thought she was saying his name, before remembering her friend. “She’s always been the brainy one, and she decided I should at least try college.”

“Parents didn’t try and convince you?” Broaching the subject of parents could lead to unwelcome questions for him, but Will’s interest was piqued.

“Just mom. They divorced a couple years ago, and dad doesn’t really care anymore.” Will heard a familiar pain in her voice, and without thinking his hand stretched toward her shoulder. He quickly pulled it back, but Buffy laughed a little. “I’m not going to punch you if you touch me, Spike.”

“Heh, like you could. We were pretty evenly matched,” Will reminded her, drawing her attention away from his awkward action. “How long have you practiced whatever it is you know?”

“Mixed martial arts,” Buffy explained, sipping her drink. “Five years. You?”

“Troubled youth.” Will grinned when Buffy choked on her hot chocolate.

“Seriously?” she spluttered, wiping at the front of her shirt where the drink had spilled. Will quickly busied himself with his coffee, studiously not paying attention to her cleaning efforts.

“Yeah. England’s not as idyllic as you Americans seem to think.” The coffee was a bit too strong, but he went at it anyway. He needed to do something that wasn’t watching Buffy brush her chest.

“So, what, you’re a gangster turned poet?” Buffy looked extremely skeptical, but underneath that was a hint of amusement.

“If you like,” he grinned, still grateful that she wasn’t laughing about his major.

“Well, aren’t you a package.”

There were far too many thoughts chasing around Will’s head, and none of them were appropriate for an eighteen year old girl he’d just met, so he settled for another sip of coffee.

“So what classes are you taking your last semester? Anything fun?” At least one of them was capable of normal conversation.

“Couple of poetry classes, our class, and a Shakespeare course,” Will rattled off. “Last one is taught by an English guy, actually. Not sure how SU got him here. You?”

“Another English guy? Guess you’re not such a rarity after all,” Buffy joked.

“I dunno, I’m sure I’ve got him beat in a few departments.” The words slipped out of Will’s mouth before he could consider them, but fortunately Buffy didn’t seem to mind his sad attempt at flirting. She’d seen Liam but was still sticking around? Will fought the urge to preen.

“I can only imagine,” she laughed, blushing again but maintaining eye contact. This was unreal. Maybe he’d fallen asleep in Giles’ class and had plopped into a very pleasant dream. “Anyway, I’m taking a boring intro English class, and some history and math alongside my freshman seminar.”

“What’s the English class?”

“Intro to British Literature. Maybe you can be my tutor?”

It must have been the way she said it, the way her eyebrow tilted, or how her mouth twitched in a smile, because why else would he suddenly really, really need to be alone?

Using her comment as an excuse to hide his face (among other things), Will leaned down to grab his notebook from his bag. He scribbled his number and ripped it off, holding it out to her.

“Ring me if you need help,” Will said. “But that class shouldn’t be too hard, so I won’t cry if I don’t hear from you.” He grinned as Buffy took the scrap of paper and laughed.

“I’ll see you a couple times a week, I can always ask you in class.”

“Not if you’re punching me, you can’t,” Will countered, hoping that she’d take the excuse to call, to see him, outside of class.

“Just wait till we get to kicking, cause I am going to kick your--”

“Buffy!”

Will looked round as a curvy blonde girl approached them, looking insincerely excited as she leaned down and hugged Buffy, who half-heartedly returned it.

“Hi, Harmony,” Buffy answered. “I didn’t realize you were coming to SU.”

Will sipped his coffee and looked the other direction, not wanting to intrude on their conversation, but the girl, Harmony (stupid name), turned to him with a bright smile.

“Hi there,” she said in an octave lower than what she’d just greeted Buffy in, clearly trying to be sultry. “My name’s Harmony. What’s yours?”

Will glanced quickly at Buffy, who was looking fairly annoyed, and said, “Spike,” catching the smile that brought Buffy’s lips up.

“Spike? What an interesting name!”

Harmony looked confused, as though she couldn’t tell if Will was fucking with her or not. He nodded to Buffy.

“You can thank your friend for the name,” he admitted, trying to bring Buffy back into whatever this was. He knew already that he would not enjoy more of Harmony’s company.

“Oh, really?” Harmony’s smile tightened. “How cute! Buffy, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Will fought the urge to roll his eyes at the girl’s annoying and none too subtle prying. But he saw Buffy’s own frustrated expression and, like when he cut off the freshman in class, he acted without a thought, stretching a hand toward Buffy. She could take it or leave it.

“Yeah, actually,” Buffy said brightly, taking Will’s hand. It was warm from the hot chocolate. “It’s been, what, a month?”

“Thereabouts,” Will agreed, letting his thumb stroke her hand. He could feel the bones in her thin hand, the edges that undercut how soft she looked.

“Well, that’s--that’s great, Buffy.” Harmony looked extremely conflicted, and Will finally took pity on her.

He stood, picking up Buffy’s backpack as well as his own. “Ready to go, luv? Gotta meet up with Willow.”

If Buffy was startled by his use of the pet name, she didn’t show it. She stood up and took his hand again, smiling at Harmony. “Great to see you again, Harm!” she chirped, letting Will pull her toward the door.

Once outside, Will glanced back through the window. “She’s still watching you.”

“Ugh, let’s go then,” Buffy groaned, setting off at a fast pace away from the coffee shop.

Neither of them spoke as they bustled off to wherever Buffy had in mind. Even when they were out of Harmony’s sight, Buffy held on to his hand, and he wasn’t about to argue. English and vaguely attractive, Will had still never had much luck with women. Liam always pushed him to talk to at least one when they went to bars, but it always felt forced. Unnatural. But now that Buffy was gripping his hand tightly, he wasn’t sure he could let go.

They finally stopped after Buffy had taken them outside to one of the many quads at SU, pausing under a tree. Buffy released his hand and dragged her fingers through her hair with a groan, leaving Will to clench his fist as if he could hold onto the sensation of her hand in his.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Buffy apologized, looking highly embarrassed. “Harmony went to my high school and she’s just such a--”

“Bint?” Will offered, sliding his hands into his pockets. The tactile distraction was enough to take his mind off holding Buffy’s hand.

Buffy blew the air out of her cheeks and tilted her head to the side. “What’s a bint?”

“Oh, British slang for a bitch, basically,” he explained. “Never been much of a fan of that word, myself. Not since I read  _ The Iliad _ .”

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me some time,” Buffy said with a laugh. “Right now, I’ve got to go to my next class. Can’t miss the first day, can I?”

“It’d be a bit awkward, yeah.”

“Exactly.”

Buffy nodded but didn’t leave. Will stared as the California sun came out from behind a cloud and lit up her hair like a golden fire. He shook himself, trying to switch off his sudden dive into composition.

“Thank you, Will,” Buffy told him, in a tone far more sincere than Harmony’s had been.

“What for?” he asked dumbly, feeling his cheeks warm.

She didn’t answer but stepped forward and, stretching up on her toes, kissed his cheek. “Don’t play stupid, Spike,” she whispered into his ear, breath heating his neck, before backing away from him. She was smiling widely in a way that transformed her entire face from pretty to beautiful. “See you in class,” she said, and walked away, leaving Will--Spike--alone in the sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I don't actually explain the Iliad comment later on:  
Zeus calls Hera a bitch sort of a lot in Robert Fitzgerald's translation of The Iliad, and it's definitely a translator's choice so I put my annoyance with that into Spike :)


	3. Elegy Written in a University Quad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will can't get Buffy out of his mind, especially not when she asks him for favors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title taken from "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" by Thomas Gray. quotes also from this poem.

For the rest of the day, Will was useless. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking of Buffy. The way her lips felt on his cheek, the scent of her hair when she’d whispered to him, how strong her hand was. She consumed him, and he’d never been more frustrated.

When he returned to the apartment he shared with Liam, he stormed into his room and slammed the door. He glared around at his books, his clothes, his life, and wanted to throw something. As bad as he was with girls, he’d always been able to keep control of himself around them. But after little more than an hour in Buffy’s presence, Will felt as though he was coming undone. He both longed to see her again, wondering if she’d call, and hoped that she would leave him be, give him time to sort out the panic he felt as a result of her kiss.

With a roar, Will threw his bag across the room where it slammed into the wall. He dropped onto his bed and cradled his head, feeling the heat in his face. Ever since his mum had passed, Will’s emotions had been getting away from him. Sadness, anger, joy, all seemed to come to him when he least expected it. How was he supposed to react when going through a drive through made him weep for no apparent reason? But during his time with Buffy, that sweet, short time, he hadn’t felt anything but nerves. Nerves and attraction. Normal. And somehow that scared him.

“You alright in there?” Liam’s voice asked from the other side of the door. Will hadn’t heard him enter the apartment, and he took a shaky breath before going to open the door. Liam took one look at him and said, “What the hell happened to you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Will growled, pushing past Liam to the small kitchen. He grabbed a glass and some whiskey, pouring himself a generous amount.

“I take it your coffee with Buffy didn’t go well.” Liam looked far too amused by the situation, but Will just scowled and downed the whiskey. “I knew you were bad with the ladies, but I didn’t know you were _ this _ bad.”

“It went fine,” Will grunted, pouring another shot of whiskey. Liam raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the counter and Will sighed and closed his eyes. “Seriously, mate, it was fine. I’m just…I dunno.”

Liam looked at Will through narrowed eyes, apparently judging for himself the state he was in.

“Did she hit on you?”

Will rolled his eyes and downed the shot.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Liam grinned. “Come on, man, spill the details. It’s not everyday we get hit on by fine young freshmen.”

“Don’t be a prick,” Will warned him, a sudden need to protect Buffy coming over him. “She didn’t do anything you clearly seem to think she did.”

“So she didn’t grab your--”

Will’s phone rang as he took a menacing step toward Liam. “You’re bloody lucky,” he told Liam, who laughed as Will shoved past him. He didn’t recognize the number on the phone as he picked up and his stomach gave a sudden churn.

“‘Lo?” he grumbled into the phone.

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice seemed to wash over him with that one, silly nickname, and his eyes closed as he exhaled.

“Buffy, yeah?” he asked, as though he didn’t immediately recognize her.

“You got it,” she said cheerfully. “Glad to know you didn’t mix me up with all the other girls you know.”

“I don’t--I mean, you’re...very much you.” God, he sounded like an idiot. 

“I wanted your advice,” Buffy confessed, continuing her trend of ignoring the stupid shit he said. “I had my first British lit class this afternoon and I’m not sure what to do about the books.”

“Oh?” Will was pretty socially clueless, but that seemed like a weak excuse to call someone.

“It’s dumb, I know,” she said, sounding embarrassed. “But I don’t know if I should buy the books new, or used, or if the edition really matters…”

“Edition matters,” Will told her, mind awhirl with both excitement and frustration.

“Okay, so what about new or used?” Buffy asked.

“Depends,” Will said as Liam came to stand in front of him, arms crossed, and eyes twinkling with humor. _ Sod off _, he mouthed before retreating to his room and shutting the door. “How do you feel about other people’s notes in your books?”

“Is that a thing?”

“Sure. Annotations can be helpful, but not everyone’s are good. You could get stuck with some nit’s book, with stupid jokes scrawled in the margins.”

“Well that’s annoying.” Even after so little time, Will could imagine Buffy scrunching her nose with those words. He smiled, the anger he’d felt a few minutes ago melting away. “You wouldn’t happen to have the--hold on--” There were sounds of shuffling, and then she said, “Okay, do you have the _ Norton Anthology of British Literature _?”

“Volume A, I’m guessing, since it’s an intro class?” Will started pushing books aside on one of his shelves, hunting down his own copy.

“Yeah.”

“Matter of fact, I’ve got one right here,” he said triumphantly as he pulled it out from behind a book of Thomas Gray. “It’s yours if you want.”

“Seriously? Spike, that’d be awesome, it’d save me like fifty bucks.” The pleasure in Buffy’s voice finally drove off the last of his frustration, and he wondered why he’d ever been annoyed with how she made him feel. “Can I meet you somewhere in a little bit? I have to read a few things before class on Wednesday.”

Fully against his will, his heart jumped in his chest. See her again? So soon?

“Erm, sure,” Will said, scrambling his thoughts together. “Can’t chat for too long though, er, Liam and I are headed out for a drink.”

“Oh, right, of course.” Did Buffy sound disappointed? _ Shut up _. “That’s alright, I’ll need to start reading anyway. I’m not very fast.”

“No problem. Er, so I can stop by that quad again on our way out.”_ The quad where you kissed me _, his brain added unhelpfully. “See you there in, what, twenty minutes?” 

“Sure, my dorm’s not far from there. Thanks again, Spike!”

Will hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose. What the hell. What the bloody hell.

“Oi, Liam!” he called as he stepped out of his room again. “Fancy a pint?”

* * *

The entire walk back to campus, Liam teased him about Buffy.

“Honestly, it’s just adorable, Will, the way you’re doing so much for her!” he said in a saccharine tone. “I mean, saving her from that meathead in class, lending her your precious book. Truly, I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“Shove it,” Will muttered as they approached the open expanse of grass and trees. He’d changed clothes to be more pub appropriate, swapping out his regular jeans for a tight black pair, and his plain black shirt for a fine black button down. Liam hadn’t hesitated before teasing Will about this, even though he’d changed clothes as well.

_ “You’ve never changed for the bar before, Will. Admit it, this is for Buffy _.”

Will had admitted no such thing--to Liam.

Buffy was standing in the same place she’d left him earlier, and seeing her made him draw in a quick breath. Liam chuckled at his side, but for once kept his comments to himself. As they approached her, she smiled wide when she met Will’s eyes.

“Hey, Spike,” Buffy said happily. “And Liam, right?” she added, seeing the hulking bastard a little behind him.

“Great to see you again, Buffy,” Liam replied lazily.

“Here’s the book, then,” Spike said calmly, holding the book out to her. Now that he was near her again, he felt that same contentedness from before steal over him. “Hope the notes don’t bug you too much.”

“Your notes will probably help me out,” Buffy laughed, leafing through the book. “Sorry for buggering you so much.”

Will froze as Liam snorted loudly but quickly turned it into a cough. Buffy flushed, eyes darting from Will to Liam, who Will could hear fighting back laughter. Rather unsuccessfully.

“I meant, uh, bugging…” Buffy stammered, and as surprised as he was by the accidental innuendo (was it accidental?), he did his best to smile naturally.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said quietly, stepping closer to her and away from Liam. “You’re welcome for the book. I hope it does help.” He smiled when she still looked uncomfortable, wanting to put her at ease. “And don’t judge me too harshly for any stupid shit I wrote in there, right? Took that class ages ago now.”

Seeming slightly relieved, Buffy smiled back, clutching the book to her chest. “Thanks, Spike. Or Will. I didn’t ask if the nickname bothers you…?” she trailed off, asking with her raised eyebrow as she looked up at him. More now than when they’d tried hitting each other, Will noticed their height difference. She was just the right height that if Will were to hold her in his arms, she would fit under his chin.

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” Will assured her gently. “Can’t really give you a nickname though. Buffy’s already a name in and of itself.”

Buffy snorted, looking far more relaxed now. “Hardly an original thing to tease me on, you know.”

“Give me time, I’ll come up with new material.” Will felt like he was smiling too much but he couldn’t stop.

“I think that can be arranged,” Buffy said slyly. She glanced again at Liam, still behind them, and coughed. “Anyway, I’ll let you guys go. Celebrating the end of the first day?”

“Something like that,” Will allowed. “See you in class, Buffy. Ring me if you need help with anything.”

“Thanks, Spike. See you later. And bye, Liam!” Buffy gave him one more smile before turning toward the dorms. Will watched her go, mind flitting from one thing to the next without settling on any singular thought.

“Are we actually getting a drink, _ Spike _?” Liam nudged him with an elbow as he stood beside him and watched Buffy go. Will nodded absently.

“Let’s go then. See if I can find my own freshman.” Liam hooked his arm through Will’s and dragged him away from the quad in the direction of their favorite bar. It was about a five minute walk from where they were, far enough that it wasn’t on campus but not so far that all the undergrads couldn’t visit easily. As it was the first night of the semester, the bar was crowded in the way that Will did not enjoy.

“Pale ale?” Liam asked in Will’s ear as a scantily clad pair of girls giggled their way past. When Will nodded, Liam shoved him toward a collection of tables and left for the counter. Will darted toward a small open table and beat a couple of young guys to it. They scowled at him but Will ignored them and they walked away, leaving him be.

As he looked around, Will didn’t recognize anyone from his classes. The English lit folks didn’t always take well to the campus’ favorite pub, and he’d gone with a few classmates to a place called the Bronze further into Sunnydale. It didn’t have as many drink options, but it was generally calmer and usually had live music. If he hadn’t been quite so desperate to get a drink in him he might’ve bugged Liam to go there, but the sooner he downed some pints the less he’d think about Buffy. Maybe.

Liam returned from the bar carrying two pints of pale, which he set down with a chuckle.

“What’s so funny, forehead?” Will asked as he sipped at his beer.

“There’s a new bartender up there, and he is way out of his element,” Liam laughed as he took a drink of his own. “I asked for pale and he gave me two Guinnesses. Should be fun to see how long it takes for some dickhead to toss a pitcher at him.”

Will snorted and craned his neck so he could see the bloke Liam was talking about. Through gaps in the crowd at the counter, Will could see a pasty looking guy with dark hair running back and forth as he tried to fill orders.

“He does look a bit of a pratt,” Will said, leaning in so Liam could hear him. “See anyone that might get you away from me, though?”

Liam grinned and started scanning the room with an almost predatory eye, taking in the several groups of women and girls scattered throughout the pub. Will could see a few likely candidates to catch Liam’s eye, but he waited for his friend to find them himself. If Liam could go out and get laid, he’d be a little less likely to tease Will about Buffy, something Will fully supported.

It didn’t take long for Liam to spot a small cluster of girls, probably sophomores, and he grabbed his pint and stood. “Come on, Spike, you’re my wingman.”

Will rolled his eyes but stood up. “I’m a terrible wingman and you know it.”

“Yeah, but you make me look good,” Liam grinned at him as he led the way toward the girls. Will took another sip as he followed his idiot mate, and stood slightly behind him as Liam introduced himself to one of the brunettes, who introduced herself as Darla. Will could admit that the girl was pretty, but his thoughts kept returning to Buffy. 

“And this is my friend Spike.” Liam’s words called Will back to the present as the other man yanked him forward to his side. “He’s English.”

“Hey,” Will said uncomfortably as two of the girls seemed to perk up with interest. As he expected, they shoved toward him and began pestering him with questions about London and Europe. He didn’t have very good answers for them but they seemed enthralled by his accent and hardly seemed to be listening to his actual words. Liam was definitely making headway with the brunette and Will guessed that he’d be able to slip out of the bar soon, leaving his friend behind to reap whatever he was sowing.

And indeed, a grueling half hour later, when the two girls talking to Will seemed to be growing bored with his obvious lack of interest, Liam glanced around and met Will’s eyes with a satisfied grin.

“See you tomorrow, Spike,” Liam teased, making it clear that he wouldn’t be home that night.

Will just nodded and excused himself from his small, waning fan club, who weren’t too upset to see him go. He was not very good company, he knew, and with his head full of blonde hair and soft skin he was pretty much useless. But with Liam successfully distracted for the night, Will could have the apartment to himself.

Outside, the night was cool in the way that California nights were--small breezes with the promise of more heat with the next dawn. His walk back to the apartment was calm, giving his mind ample time to think about Buffy.

Why was he suddenly so enthralled by her? He’d been with a few women--it was hard to avoid at university, especially with his accent--but none of them had ever held him captive the way Buffy did. And the most he’d done with her was get kissed on the cheek. Hardly something that would normally inspire arousal, but the whole day Will had felt heat pool in his belly, forcing him to think about Pope and Keats to keep himself under control. But it was something more than that. If it weren’t so bloody ridiculous, Will might say that he felt like he already knew Buffy. But even as a poet there were certain things he didn’t want to admit out loud. He’d never been one for Petrarchan sonnets and he’d be damned if he was going to start composing them. Better that he take advantage of Liam’s absence and get some of the heat out of his system. Maybe that would help him wrangle his thoughts into something less obsessed.

* * *

The next day brought no word from Buffy. He had his two poetry classes, filled with the students he’d been surrounded by for the last three years. There were a handful whom he didn’t mind listening to, but most of them were trying too hard to be “original.” Original was one thing if it was just ideas, but when they started twisting the forms for the sake of being different, Will got bored. He was a purist, something his professors didn’t necessarily understand, but give him some classic poets and he was happy. Or at least he would be happy if he knew why Buffy didn’t call him.

He was acting like a lovesick puppy, a Petrarchan lover, and he was annoyed with himself. After wanking off the night before, his mind had settled a bit, allowing him to do the reading Giles had assigned, but today he was back to being filled with thoughts about Buffy. What was she doing? Had she started reading the book he’d lent her? How were her classes going? He was way too close to ringing her up and asking her to meet for a coffee, but he settled instead for trying to hash out some of the poems he was working on without much success. He was able to distract himself for almost an hour in the afternoon when he went into Sunnydale for a kickboxing class. Beating the shit out of a dummy helped alleviate some of the aggravation that was building up as a result of his new obsession. It made him feel weak, to want someone so badly that he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think straight, especially someone that he’d only known for a day. But after the session he had to wank off in the shower again, his blood hot from imagining Buffy as his sparring partner.

When Liam finally got home that evening, he found Will slumped on the couch with his eyes glued to the tv.

“Whatcha watching, Spike?” Liam asked as he settled himself down beside Will. He then groaned. “_ Passions _? Seriously? What are you, a 1950s housewife?”

“Sod off,” Will grumbled, wedging the remote behind his back so Liam couldn’t switch the channel. “Keeps my mind occupied.”

Will could hear Liam’s smirk as he said, “Still thinking about Buffy? Should’ve taken one of those accent groupies home last night. That’d get your mind off her.” When Will didn’t answer, Liam shifted and stared at his face. “Unless you don’t want to get your mind off her. You actually gonna go for her?”

“None of your business, mate,” Will grunted as he crossed his arms, eyes still glued to the tv. 

“Pretty sure it is my business if you’re gonna be bringing her back here,” Liam shot back, leaning into the cushions. “She’s in the dorms so it’s not like you can fuck her there. You’re gonna be bringing her over, locking yourselves in your room, and banging away all hours of the night. I’ll never get any work done,” Liam complained mockingly.

“Fuck off.” Will finally shut off the tv and got up from the couch. “I’m going for a walk.”

As Will was closing the door behind him, Liam called out, “Buy some condoms!”

Will shook his head and set off at a quick pace, hands deep in his pockets. Sometimes he wondered why he was friends with Liam. The bloke mocked him relentlessly. But occasionally, Will knew, his mate could be kind. After Will’s mom had died a few months ago, Liam had suggested they get an apartment together so Will could get away from his dad. His dad was nice enough, but he’d quickly deteriorated after his mum had kicked it. It was not a pleasant environment for Will, and Liam had given him an out. Before that, they’d connected at the pub over a shared appreciation for rugby. Liam’s Irish grandmother was a fan and they’d struck up a conversation when the pub had a game on. Will sighed. As frustrating as Liam could be sometimes, he had Will’s back when it counted.

“Spike?”

Will whirled around and saw Buffy coming out of one of the dorms. He hadn’t realized his walk had taken him this close to the university. He’d been intending to stick to the edges of the campus.

“Oh, h’lo, Buffy,” Will said, his mouth suddenly dry. He took a mental notice of what he was wearing: scruffy dark jeans and a blue sweater. Not his best look. Buffy, on the other hand, looked outrageously attractive, which didn’t entirely make sense. She was wearing a huge white sweater and jeans, the sweater turning her torso into a shapeless lump. But it looked soft, and he imagined it would feel almost as pleasant as her skin. _ Focus _.

“Isn’t it a bit late for a walk?” she asked as she walked up to him. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, leaving her face exposed to the dim lampposts scattered across the campus. She looked even better in dim light.

“Liam was being a prick, so I came out for a bit,” he explained, keeping his hands in his pockets so he could fight the temptation to reach out and feel her sweater. Buffy raised an eyebrow.

“He get like that a lot?”

“Why, you fancy him?”

Will wished he’d bitten his tongue, but as the words spilled out of his mouth he could only wait. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl had approached him to get to Liam.

Buffy just gave him a strange look and crossed her arms. “Why do you ask?”

Will shrugged uncomfortably. “Happens more than you’d think.”

“No. I don’t ‘like’ him. I’ve hardly talked to him. Besides,” Buffy took a step closer to him. “He didn’t pretend to be my boyfriend.”

_ The curfew tolls the knell of parting day _.

Will had to quickly fill his head with poetry, because Buffy’s nearness was damn intoxicating. He’d never reacted to a woman this strongly, and it was proving to be extremely distracting.

“Guess it’s just my chivalrous side coming out,” Will managed to say without giving away the strain he was feeling. 

_ The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea. _

“I might like to see your other sides.” This time, Buffy didn’t blush from her words, though she did tighten her jaw as though she was nervous about how Will might react.

“You hardly know me,” Will said quietly, his legs carrying him closer to her. Just a step. But now he could smell her. A clean scent, unclouded by perfume.

“Yeah, but you don’t seem like a murderer. Besides, you couldn’t even hit me.” Buffy was right in front of him now, inches away from his chest, which felt like it was pulling him to her like a magnet to metal.

“I’ll only hit you if you ask,” Will croaked, frozen in place, words once more freeing themselves without his permission. His hands were still in his pockets, which was the safest place for them right now. 

Buffy wrinkled her brow. “That’s weird.” She smiled, seemingly unaffected by the nearness that was consuming his senses.

“How old are you again?” he blurted awkwardly, but Buffy--thank god--seemed to understand the direction of his thoughts.

“Eighteen.”

And then she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

With a quiet moan, Will freed his hands and pulled Buffy closer, his heart thrilling as they settled into the curve of her waist. Even through the sweater, he could feel the warmth of her and it was as intoxicating an experience as any alcohol he’d ever consumed. In return, she gripped his arms with strong fingers, encouraging him to hold her more tightly. Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined--because of course he’d thought about them--and he felt like he could pour himself into her and she would willingly accept him. He suddenly felt as though he wasn’t possibly close enough, _ couldn’t _ be close enough, even though he held her flush against him from lips to toes. When he swept his tongue across her lips she moaned into his mouth and he growled at the sound, attempting, impossibly, to pull her closer.

Kissing had never felt like this. Will’s chest was painfully tight, as though this was all he’d ever wanted and all he ever feared to lose. She was putting everything into their kiss, whatever she was feeling, whatever need she had, and Will was soaking it up, letting it fill every corner of him until he was full. Fully hers.

With a gasp, they pulled apart, Buffy taking a piece of him with her. They stood, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. Will felt both drained and exhilarated, ready to collapse and also to run.

“Guess I believe you,” Will said raspily, throat thick with feeling.

“What?” Buffy breathed as she stroked his back, and he fought not to arch into her touch.

“You definitely don’t like Liam.”

Buffy gave a breathy chuckle and lightly headbutted him. “You’re an idiot, Spike.”

“An idiot who’s very glad he came out for a walk,” he replied, wanting to fall back into a kiss but not sure if she was wanting to go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Buffy, deciding for him, hands sliding down his back and taking his hands. She pressed a sudden kiss to his mouth and he leaned in, relishing the contact. “And just so you know, since I get the feeling you worry a lot: I’m not always like this.”

Buffy broke from his hold and walked away from him, further along the path that Will had taken. He stood for several moments, staring as she disappeared behind some trees. Somehow this had happened. It felt bloody unreal. They’d met yesterday.

_ I’m not always like this _.

Will’s mouth curled into a smile at the suggestion behind those words. He was very ready for class the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to read about Petrarchan sonnets, Wikipedia has a good article about Petrarch and the section "Laura and Poetry" explains the idea behind the "Petrarchan lover." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petrarch. basically, it's a poet writing about a woman that he's super into but SPOILER: it's more about the poet's own feelings than the woman.


	4. A Fight at Tintern Abbey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will (Spike) has another self-defense class with Buffy and proposes an after hours match at a graveyard. Because you can take the vampire out of a poet but you can't take the poet out of the graveyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title taken from "Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey" by Wordsworth

Time seemed to pass in slow drips as Will eagerly awaited the class he shared with Buffy the next day. Liam had been mercifully shut up in his room last night, so Will had avoided being mocked for the flush that remained on his face for an hour after Buffy left him. But sleep? Hardly any. Paying attention in Giles’ class? Impossible. He’d done the reading, but it was all he could do to even feign attention as the class discussed Tamora, Lavinia’s role as an object, and whatever else came up. He noticed Giles look to him a few times, clearly wanting him to participate, but Will tried to look as though he was taking notes. A lot of notes.

Finally, the class ended and he was free to dash out and head to the gym. Liam would be there, which was both a blessing and a curse: if things were too awkward, he could avoid Buffy and stick to his friend, but if things were good, Liam would probably make himself a nuisance just to annoy him.

And there he was, standing against the wall in the same place as before, looking annoyingly attractive. Will wasn’t blind: he knew his best friend was hot. And it didn’t help that he’d had any number of girls in his classes ask for an introduction; yes, Will knew that his friend was appealing. But when Will’s eyes slid away from Liam and caught sight of Buffy standing not far away, he was beyond pleased to note that she was looking at him, not his friend.

Will felt his cheeks warm as he motioned for Liam to follow him over to where Buffy stood with her friends. “Morning, Buffy,” Will said somewhat awkwardly.

“Hi, Spike.” There was definitely a smile on her face, but she looked as though she was trying not to laugh. 

“Something funny?” he asked, fighting back the defensive tone that threatened to eke out.

“No, I’m just--glad to see you, is all,” Buffy assured him, and though her eyes still looked amused, her smile did seem pleased.

“Hi...Spike?” The redhead called Willow looked a little nervous, apparently unsure if she was allowed to call him by Buffy’s nickname as well.

“Hello, Wil,” he said, realizing that if he stuck around Buffy (hopefully) and didn’t use the nickname, things would get confusing. “Spike’s fine,” he added with a grin which she returned. Her girlfriend Tara smiled too but didn’t say anything, just gripping Willow’s hand.

“Spike’s  _ more  _ than fine from what I can tell,” Liam drawled as he slung an arm around Will’s shoulders, who rolled his eyes to cover his embarrassment. He jabbed Liam in the back where the girls couldn’t see and was rewarded with a grunt from Liam.

“How was your Wicca thing the other day?” Will asked Willow, wanting to talk to Buffy but not sure how. He couldn’t get his mind off her kiss and now seemed like the wrong time to repeat it.

“Oh, it was great!” To his surprise, Willow’s entire face brightened with excitement at the question. “I was expecting them to be all ‘oooh moon goddess uuhhh’ but there were actually some really cool girls there. Couple guys too.” Tara was nodding along, also showing more interest than she had before.

“So what do you do in that group?” Liam sounded mildly intrigued and he took his arm off Will and moved closer to Willow. 

As the girl launched into an explanation of Wicca practices, Buffy sidled up to him and bumped him with her hip. “Hey,” she said, watching her friends talk to Liam.

“Hi.” What should he do? Hug her? Put an arm around her? Talk about last night at all?

“What are--” Buffy began, but was interrupted by the coach calling for their attention. Their small group moved closer to listen as the coach started explaining the benefits of learning self-defense, how it can be useful in many situations, how it could also be dangerous, etc, etc…

Will didn’t pay much mind to the coach as his mind was hyper-fixated on Buffy standing inches away from him. Like last night, he felt as though something in him was straining to be closer to her. But how? It didn’t feel right to try and hold her hand. They’d had  _ one _ kiss. He remembered what she’d said before walking away:  _ I’m not always like this _ . At first he’d thought she meant that she didn’t go around kissing guys she barely knew, but now he wondered if she’d been trying to tell him that she wasn’t necessarily into him. Bloody hell.

“Alright, we’re gonna go back to blocks again since we started on them last time. Go ahead and partner up!” barked the coach. Like last time, Liam looked first to Will but then rolled his eyes when he saw Will standing by Buffy, and moved off to pair up with one of the other guys.

“Guess it’s you and me again,” Will said as they lined up with the other students.

“I still won’t go easy on you,” Buffy warned him, a gleam in her eye that set his blood on fire. His mind flashed back to when he’d practiced in town yesterday, how he’d imagined sparring with Buffy instead of the trainer.

Will grinned widely, letting a bit of the heat he felt show on his face. It was good that he and Buffy were at the end of the line.

When the coach finally gave the go ahead to start practicing, Buffy immediately came at him, forcing him to take a step back as he blocked her punch. He could dimly hear the other students grunting as they blocked, but he was focused on redirecting a punch at Buffy, who blocked it, of course. They carried on for almost two minutes, neither making it past the other’s guard, before the coach called time again. Will was slightly out of breath and noticed Buffy panting as well, a thin sheen of sweat already gathering across her forehead. He had a sudden urge to taste her skin, to draw in the salt of her efforts, but if he couldn’t bring himself to hold her hand, he  _ definitely  _ wasn’t about to start licking her in the middle of the gym.

“You’re good,” Buffy said, eyes sparkling as she brushed back her hair.

“I bet you’re even better when you really let go,” Will challenged, the heat in his blood carrying away his caution. In his periphery, he saw Willow and Tara slowly backing away from them, giving them extra room.

“You’re damn right I am.” Rather than sounding like a brag, Buffy sounded like she was stating a fact. Because of course she was good. And Will was suddenly desperate to see her in action.

“Doubt the coach would approve of that sort of thing here,” Will jerked a thumb down the line as the whistle blew for them to start again. “Wanna have a go tonight?”

He saw Buffy’s eyes go wide and he balked when he replayed what he’d just said. 

“I mean, do you want to, you know, fight later?” Will scrambled, covering his embarrassment by throwing a punch at Buffy, who blocked it easily.

“That could be fun,” she said, returning his blow. “Got someplace in mind?”

“Uhh--” Again Will blocked Buffy. “There are plenty of graveyards in this town. Doubt anyone’d object to us fighting there.”

“You want to fight in a graveyard?” Buffy asked skeptically, and Will noticed that her leg started to kick up before she caught herself, remembering where they were and instead just taking a step back. He grinned.

“Why not? You’re clearly burning to kick my ass, so might as well give you the space to do it. Come on, killer, what do you say?”  _ Please let it be yes _ .

“All right,” Buffy said, right before she reached past his guard and punched him in the gut.

Will had known that she was strong from blocking her punches, but she hadn’t managed to really hit him yet. The blow knocked the wind out of him and he bent over wheezing. 

Immediately, Buffy ran up, saying, “Oh my god, Spike, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” She slid a hand up his back as she leaned down, seeking his eyes, and his entire body fought back a shiver at the feel of her palm. His skin felt hot, like he had a fever, but he knew it was from her. To cover his reaction, Will straightened up so that her hand slipped off him and he looked down at her, smiling.

“‘m alright,” he assured her, still feeling a heat impression of her hand on his back. “You did say you wouldn’t go easy on me.”

“Yeah, but I assumed you’d be able to block me. I’m really sorry,” Buffy repeated, indeed looking very sorry.

Forgetting where they were, Will raised a hand and brushed a curl of hair off her forehead. “You can make it up to me,” he said in a low voice, his fingers burning as hot as where she’d touched him. Buffy let out a small huff of breath and cocked her head to the side, but before she could reply the coach’s whistle sounded again.

_ Dammit _ .

This was really not the best place for...whatever he was trying to do with Buffy. Whatever skills at flirting he had were working overtime every time he talked to this girl, and the constant interruptions weren’t making it easier. But they stood by and paid half-hearted attention as the coach offered up more tips when it came to blocking. 

“Now, I noticed some of y’all don’t seem to have a good grasp on actually throwing punches, and since that’ll make learning self-defense a little hard we’ll go ahead and do a little demonstration,” said the coach, and as Will rolled his eyes he saw Buffy do the same. “How about you two back there?” the coach called, making direct eye contact with Will, a small smirk on his face. “Since you seem to be the experts here.”

Will felt himself flush but Buffy was already moving to the front of the group so he followed in her wake. Being the center of attention was not his idea of a good time, even when he was doing something he was good at. He never went to poetry readings, never did tournaments. An exhibitionist, he was not.

“All right, now I’m pretty sure you two don’t need tips, and could probably teach the class yourselves, but I’m gonna have you go ahead and just show us the basics for now,” the coach told them, stepping back and gesturing for them to start. “How about you try to hit, girl, and boy, you block.”

Buffy turned an amused grin on him and barely waited for him to get his guard up before she threw a punch at his gut again. This time he managed to block, using his forearm to redirect her blow down and away.

“Good. A few more,” said the coach with a chuckle. Will heard a few of their classmates mutter, but he fought not to pay attention to them, as the distraction would just get him punched again.

They exchanged a few more punches and blocks before the coach called them to a halt. “See how it’s done, folks? It’s alright if you’re not all as good as these two coasters, but if you get the gist you’ll be able to practice. Thanks, you two,” the coach added with another grin at the pair of them.

Will couldn’t help but scowl at the man for putting him on display like that, but he gamely followed Buffy back to where Liam, Tara, and Willow were standing in the back. Tara’s eyes were wide.

“Buffy, I knew you could fight, but I’m a little surprised that you can too, Will,” she said, before hastily saying, “I mean Spike. Sorry. That’s gonna get confusing.” She blushed a little and sort of shuffled closer to Willow, who patted her arm.

“Oh sure, Spike here’s been kicking ass since he was a wee lad back in London-town,” Liam explained, affecting a very bad English accent as he tossed an arm around Will’s shoulders. “You should hear some of his stories--”

“Or not,” Will interrupted, glaring at his mate. “That’s old rot, not worth repeating.”

“I don’t know, it might be fun to hear what you got up to,” Buffy said with a coy smile as she raised an eyebrow at him. Will didn’t respond, but just shot Liam the bird.

The rest of the class passed without any more embarrassing moments for Will, though he continued to spar with Buffy. He was doing his damndest to keep away the thoughts that had kept him company during his session yesterday, but every now and then Buffy would get close enough that her panting breath swept across his arm and raised the hairs on his skin. This only gave him additional things to think about later. Alone.

At last, the coach called time and dismissed them until the next week. As a phys ed elective, the class only met twice a week, which meant Will would have to find other reasons to see Buffy outside of class. But maybe if they set up the precedent of sparring together, like they planned to do this evening…

“So I guess I’ll see you tonight,” Buffy said as they followed behind Tara, Willow, and Liam out of the gym. Will wasn’t thick enough to miss that the three of them were giving him and Buffy a little privacy.

“Yeah. Seven o’clock? There’s a good cemetery not that far from campus.” Will was glad when his voice didn’t betray the nerves that were now overtaking him.

“A cemetery, huh? Sort of macabre, but okay.” Buffy smiled, reaching down to take his hand as she did. Her touch was light, but he could feel the warmth of her skin, slightly sweaty from the workout they’d had. She gently squeezed his hand, eyes never leaving his face. “See you tonight,” she said quietly before walking away, leaving him to stand there and stare after her as she was joined by her two friends. 

Liam came to his side. “Got a big date tonight, huh?”

As Buffy turned a corner down the hall, Will turned to Liam with a smile he couldn’t contain. “Looks like.”

* * *

Will was early to the graveyard. Even though he’d spent about fifteen minutes working out what to wear, with amused input from Liam, and almost an equal amount of time cleaning his teeth. It was probably presumptuous to assume that there might be a reason he would want fresh breath, but he pretended that he would have done this anyway. Without much success.

“You’re awful nervous for someone who’s just going to beat up a girl in a graveyard,” Liam had said with a laugh as Will dismissed the third outfit he’d tried on. But Will was used to Liam teasing him and he had mostly ignored whatever he said. They’d finally landed on comfortable dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a decent button up over it, which Liam had told him not to button.

“It’s a fight, after all,” Liam had chuckled at him.

But even with all that, Will arrived at the cemetery about ten to seven, giving him ample time to question what the hell he was doing. He was in no state to date anyone, let alone a freshman. With his dad barely keeping his head above water (or gin, as it were), Will found himself handling most of the fallout of his mum’s death. He lived with Liam, sure, but though three months had gone by since the funeral, questions kept cropping up that he had to answer, details to be provided to his mum’s family who kept asking if he was sure he didn’t want to ship his mother home. Will was coping well enough with his own grief, but less so when he got calls from his dad about bills being late.

So why was he here, anxiously waiting for Buffy to show up?  _ Because she distracts you, you prick.  _ Was that it? She was just a distraction? The thrill he felt whenever she got close to him was just a distraction? To be fair to himself, he’d never had a proper relationship before and didn’t really know what it was supposed to be like. Poetry offered some ideas, but it was all mostly written to be consumed by idiots, so it wasn’t very reliable.

“Spike?”

Will jerked around, open shirt flapping through the air. Buffy was a few graves away from him, wearing a fluffy sweater like the one she’d worn yesterday and--

“A skirt?” Will asked, bewildered. “You’re honestly going to fight in that?”

“I do it all the time,” Buffy said with a laugh, making her way between headstones to him. As she got closer he noticed her shoes.

“And  _ heels _ ? What are you, Wonder Woman?”

“Pretty much,” Buffy retorted, a defensive look coming over her face. “If you think I can’t kick your ass in a skirt and heels you’re about to be sorely mistaken.”

Will raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, I didn’t say it couldn’t be done. I’m just surprised is all, no need to bite my head off.”

Buffy blew a breath through her lips, causing some of her hair to rise and fall back away from her face. Then she smiled, eyes flashing mischievously. “You ready?”

Will felt a shiver of anticipation thrum through his body and he took a step forward, bringing them into fighting range. “Bring it on, Barbie,” he taunted, and saw her smile twist down just before she threw herself at him.

What followed was one of the most exhilarating fights in his life. Unlike in their class, Will could tell that Buffy wasn’t bothering to pull her punches or limit herself to clean fighting. She fought dirty, and Will wondered if she’d also been in street fights. When she aimed a kick at his knee, Will managed to turn to the side just in time, catching her leg and attempting to throw her backward to the ground. But to his surprise, Buffy rolled with the move and used the momentum to flip over, putting herself just out of his range. He tried to close in on her, use his size against her, but as he reached out to grab her arm--thinking to put her in an arm-lock--she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. He lost his balance and she flung him to the ground, settling on top of him with one hand on his throat and the other raised in a fist.

“I win,” Buffy panted victoriously, smile widening across her face.

The fight had lasted maybe two minutes. Not much time at all. Shorter even than some of his practice fights at the gym. But none of them ended with a girl he was attracted to straddling him, and he had never been happier to be beaten.

“Uh-huh,” he managed to get out.  _ The day is come when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore. _ “You win.”  _ And view These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts. _ With the poem rolling through his head, he was able to keep his blood from rushing in an awkward direction, but he only had so many poems memorized, and Buffy was still on top of him. Her hand was poised against his throat and he knew she’d be able to feel how fast his heart was beating. Hopefully she’d assume it was from the fight.

“You always this bad? Or is it because I’m a girl?” Buffy asked, lowering her fist but leaving her hand on his throat, which he attempted to clear.

“Definitely not always this bad,” he croaked.  _ I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.  _

Buffy tossed her head, sending her blonde hair away from her face as she looked down at him. The hand not against his throat had come to rest against his chest, fingers splayed gently on his shirt. “So it’s just me then?” she asked, victorious smile turning into something else that he didn’t have a word for as she lowered herself closer to his face.

“You could say that,” Will breathed, watching as his breath moved her hair. His mind was blank. He couldn’t remember the next lines of the poem.

“Why did you really invite me out here, Spike?” Buffy murmured as she stared at him. She had him pinned or he would’ve looked away.

“Pretty sure you know the answer to that, luv,” Will muttered, eyes fixed on hers. He doubted that he’d ever been in such an awkward situation, but there was something in him that was too busy enjoying himself to care. 

Buffy smirked. “That’s what I thou--”

Will let his desire sweep through him, all thoughts of rhyme and meter driven out. He raised a hand and pulled Buffy’s face to his, bringing their lips together like he’d imagined for the last 24 hours. Buffy let out a sigh and sunk closer to him, running her hands through his curls. With one hand on the back of her neck, Will let his other hand draw up to her waist, but he could barely feel her through the thick sweater. Without thinking he dipped his hand under its hem and brought his hand to rest against the skin over her hip, bringing a moan out of Buffy when his nails scratched her gently. He was dimly aware that where she was sitting made it extremely obvious how much he was enjoying this, and also that she was in a short skirt that was scrunched up to the crease of her thighs, but Buffy gave no indication that she was bothered by their arrangement. So Will let his mind take a backseat as he drove his mouth against hers, feeling the heat of her breath on his tongue when he pushed past her lips. Her hands wandered down from his hair to his shoulders, where they squeezed tightly each time he flicked her tongue with his own. And when Buffy bit his lip, he let out a noise that was half groan, half hiss, and couldn’t stop his hips from bucking up against her, his cock aching. He could’ve been imagining it, but he thought he could feel the heat of her through his jeans and he groaned again, bringing both his hands beneath her sweater now where he gripped her hips and held her against him.

A part of him questioned the sanity of doing this in a graveyard, quite probably over some bloke’s remains, but the part of him that was hard and needy drove all thoughts of dignity away. All he could think or feel was Buffy. Buffy on him, the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, the heat that told him he was definitely not alone in enjoying this, and when she started grinding herself against him he felt himself building toward the moment that would bring all his pleasure to a blinding point. He pulled back from Buffy, his head thudding against the grass.

Buffy stopped moving, but he could feel her blood pulsing against him, as hot as his own, and stared at him, breathing through parted lips.

“What is it?” she gasped, hands coming back to his hair.

Will’s eyes fluttered shut at the feel of her nails on his scalp, but he forced them open. “Sorry, it’s just--well, I don’t want to enjoy this too much, if you get my meaning.” Hopefully she did, because as turned on as he was, he didn’t think he could get any more explicit without blushing.

Fortunately, a blush of her own crept over Buffy’s face, which he could only see dimly in the sunset.

“Oh,” she said, sitting up, which did nothing to help the situation as it only brought more of her weight against him. He let out an involuntary groan, his hands tightening where they still gripped her hips. Buffy gave a throaty chuckle. “Somewhere else you’d like to go?”

Will’s eyes widened, his blood still furiously pumping away from his brain. “You sure?”

“I think so, yeah,” Buffy grinned, not yet getting off him. “I don’t know about you, but a fight always gets me hot.”

“I mean, I’ve never had a fight end quite like this but--” Buffy made to stand up and the motion added just enough pressure that Will gasped, and blurted, “How about my apartment?!”

At his words, Buffy leapt up off of him and stretched out a hand to pull him to his feet, grin still wide across her face. “Lead the way, Spike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will absolutely continue to be snippets of poetry in this story


	5. A Bump in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike learns something new

After accepting Buffy’s hand to stand up, Will took a moment to adjust himself so walking would be less uncomfortable. He did this with his back turned to Buffy, as though she might not know what he was doing. But as she seemed to know her way around a mouth, Will suspected that he wasn’t fooling her. He cleared his throat as they started walking back toward campus.

“Uh, so you say you’re not usually like this,” he said, his mind pulling back to what she’d said the night before. “What are you normally like?”

Buffy shrugged as she walked beside him. “High school wasn’t a great time for me,” she offered. “There was a guy, and he...wasn’t good. I sort of got out of the dating habit after that, but Wil has been telling me I should get back out there, see that not every guy is a dick.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Will said quietly. “But uh, if you don’t mind my saying, you don’t really know me that well. I could be a dick, y’know.”

Again, Buffy shrugged. “Eh. I get the feeling you’re not. I’m usually a pretty good judge of character. Well, okay, not  _ usually _ , but sometimes.”

Will gave a chuckle as their feet found the path out of the graveyard. Talking was drawing his blood back in a more productive direction, and as they were still out where anyone could see them this seemed for the best.

“So, aside from fighting, what else are you good at?” Will asked.

“Not much, actually,” Buffy admitted ruefully. “I’ve never been good in school. Fighting is sort of my thing.”

“Bit dangerous, isn’t it?”

“You’re one to talk, Mr ‘I was in a London gang,’” Buffy snorted as she shoved him a little. “Besides, I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second,” Will grinned. “But I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve got to be good at more things than just fighting.”

“Maybe.” Suddenly, Buffy stopped in the middle of the path and stared to their right.

“Uh, something wrong?” Will asked, looking in the same direction.

“Shhh!” Buffy hissed at him, moving herself to stand between him and the bushes. “Spike, I think you should go home.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing?” Will whispered, noticing that Buffy was fiddling with something inside her sweater. “What’s going on?”

“Spike, just--”

With the cracking of many twigs, something barreled out of the shrubs and collided with Buffy, knocking her back into Will and taking them both to the ground.

“What the fuck!?” Will yelled in surprise, trying to pull Buffy’s hair out of his face so he could see what hit them, but Buffy was quickly off him and he could hear the sounds of her now-familiar grunting mixed with punches and snarls. Scrambling back, Will sat up and tried to make out their attacker in the dim streetlight.

It was...human? No, it couldn’t be human. Humans didn’t move that fast, and they  _ definitely _ didn’t have faces that fucked up.

“What the bloody hell is that?” Will shouted, coming to his feet as he thought to help Buffy, but with a swift kick she knocked him back down.

“Stay there!” she ordered him, in a voice that would tolerate no arguments. As Will watched, Buffy fought the thing with more power than she had with Will, and he knew that if she hit him as hard as she was hitting whatever this was, he’d have broken bones.

With a blinding twist, Buffy whirled and Will saw something dark in her hand as she brought it down to the thing’s chest. 

And then it poofed.

Will gaped as dust settled to the ground where the thing had just been standing. He saw Buffy tucking something under her sweater and then she came to stand before him, once more holding out her hand to him.

“So,” she said, sounding a little nervous. “That was fun.”

“What the fuck was that?” Will demanded, ignoring Buffy’s hand as he scrambled to his feet. “And what did you do to it?”

Buffy took a deep breath and looked at him with a little bit of resignation behind her eyes. “That was a vampire.”

Will’s mouth flapped open and closed as words fought to become coherent sentences. Finally, he blustered, “Vampires aren’t real!”

Buffy pulled down the neck of her sweater and revealed the base of her neck. Will squinted and shuffled forward until he could see what she was trying to show him. There were two, neat little puncture marks on her skin, just wide enough to have been from a human mouth.

“Oh, you’re off your bird!” Will scoffed, retreating with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but that thing was no vampire.”

“Then what was it, Spike?” Buffy asked impatiently. “A guy with a skin problem? A bald bear that spontaneously combusted?”

“I don’t know! But vampires  _ aren’t _ real,” Will insisted, hearing a whine in his voice. “And you must be daft to think I’d believe that rot.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Okay. You don’t believe me. So how do you explain that guy turning to dust?”

Will stood there, thinking furiously, as Buffy watched him with crossed arms. He had no explanation, of course. Because what he just saw couldn’t have happened. He narrowed his eyes.

“Did you drug me or somethin’?” he asked suspiciously. He hadn’t pegged Buffy for someone who’d be into drugs, but he’d only met her a few days ago. What did he know?

“No, I didn’t drug you, you doof,” Buffy retorted with an eye roll. “I know it’s hard to believe, but that was a vampire. When they’re killed, they go poof. Stake them, cut off their heads, push them into sunlight. Poof.”

“You’ve cut people’s heads off?” Will said faintly. He felt a sudden need to sit down and he stumbled a few steps to a bench beside the path. Buffy came over and stood in front of him, not close enough to touch.

“I don’t really consider vampires to be people,” she admitted with a certain coldness that made Will look up. “They’re demons. Their bodies used to be human, but what’s inside isn’t. Not anymore.”

Will studied Buffy’s face. She looked...exhausted. From sparring with her, Will suspected that this sudden tiredness wasn’t from the very short fight she’d had with the whatever.

“Are you serious?” he asked finally, leaning back against the bench and meeting her eyes. She looked down at him and he could see the conflict taking place inside her.

“Yeah. I’m serious.”

Will let the silence fall between them, his mind reeling and viciously trying to reject what Buffy was telling him. Vampires are real. They poof. Buffy killed them.

“How do you know about them?”

Buffy gave a shrug before sitting down on the bench next to him, still keeping a distance between them that Will wouldn’t have expected five minutes ago.

“I’m the Slayer,” she said, as though that were explanation enough. When Will cocked an eyebrow at her, she went on, “Basically, I’m the girl in charge of killing demons and monsters. Around Sunnydale, anyway. Everywhere else has to deal with the bad guys themselves.”

“Why Sunnydale?” Will asked, glossing over the ‘Slayer’ thing for now.

Buffy settled back, shifting to get comfortable. The California night was pleasant, but Will still felt cold and wondered if she did as well.

“Sunnydale is on a Hellmouth. That’s--”

“A mouth to hell?” Will supplied wryly, and Buffy smiled. Some of the tension seemed to leak out of her as her shoulders lowered an inch or so.

“Yeah. And so a lot of demons gather around here for the energy. There’s a lot of work to do most nights,” she sighed.

“So what are you doing out here with me when you could be slaying vampires?”

Buffy turned to look at him, tucking a foot underneath her. “Do I have to answer that, or can you put two and two together?”

Heat flashed down to Will’s groin as his mind flooded with the sensations he’d had when Buffy had beaten him. He felt a blush creep to his face.

“Guess not,” he said gruffly.

Buffy grinned at him, her eyes sparkling once more. “So do you think I’m crazy?”

Will snorted and reached out to brush a strand of hair away from Buffy’s face. “Yes. But you don’t seem like you’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Buffy told him, eyes flashing wickedly. “If you want, I can show you more.” A spike of lust went through him before she went on, “There’s a nest in another graveyard that I’ve been meaning to take care of.”

“A nest?” Will asked distractedly, fighting the flow of his thoughts of what Buffy could show him.

“Of vampires. Probably five or six, maybe less.” Buffy looked excited, like she had before their fight.

“Er…” Will’s mind was going back and forth between reluctant belief and annoyance. Everything in him screamed that no, vampires weren’t real, and the poof he thought he’d seen was just...a trick of the light. Or something. At the same time, something was telling him to follow this girl through fire, even if she turned out to be off her rocker. “Alright?”

“Great,” Buffy said with a wide smile, leaping up and seizing his hand. “It’s not that far, just a short walk. Come on.”

Will allowed himself to be led off campus, trailing behind Buffy as she walked purposefully toward the town. Impractical as it seemed, Will appreciated the view of Buffy in her skirt and heels. He’d always been a fool for a well-dressed bird, and this girl was not disappointing.

“You called yourself the Slayer,” Will remembered, and Buffy looked over her shoulder at him with a grimace.

“Yeah. It’s what girls like me are called. Though technically there are no girls like me, not right now anyway.” Buffy sounded almost sad.

“Why not?” he asked.

“‘Into every generation, a slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a chosen one.’”

Will knew a quote when he heard one. “And that’s you? The chosen one?”

Buffy nodded, not looking around this time. “Unfortunately. Or fortunately, depending on how you look at it. I won’t lie, it’s...an interesting life to live. But it’s not easy.” Buffy hesitated before continuing, “I told you there was a guy in high school? Well, he wasn’t a normal guy.”

“Vampire?” Will guessed, picking up his pace to walk beside Buffy, who nodded again.

“Yeah. I didn’t know what he was, at first, and when I found out it was too late. I loved him,” she said simply, but Will could tell from her face that it was anything but simple. “He was different. Most vampires don’t have a soul, but this guy did. He’d been cursed, putting his soul back into him. But a few years ago the curse was lifted and he…well, he was a real vampire again.”

“And not a person,” Will supplied, remembering Buffy’s words from some minutes ago.

“He killed someone. Someone important to someone I love. After that, I lost hope. I realized that he’d never come back to me. Not the way he used to be.” Buffy’s voice was low and filled with a hurt that Will could’ve used to write countless poems.

“What happened to him?” Will asked.

“I killed him.” Will stared and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Buffy said, “Here we are.”

Looking around, Will realized that they were standing in front of another graveyard, much larger than the one they’d sparred in. It was dark, with one flickering lamp post just inside the gates. It seemed like the worst place to go with someone who believed in vampires.

“This way,” Buffy said, walking into the graveyard with zero hesitation. Will hurried after her, remembering the strength Buffy had punched that maybe-vampire with, and wanting to keep her between him and whatever might be hiding in the dark.

“So what’s your plan?” Will asked quietly, following Buffy as she made her silent way toward a line of mausoleums at the back of the cemetery.

“Bust in, slay, prove that I’m telling the truth,” Buffy replied. Will waited, but she added nothing else.

“That’s it? That’s not much of a plan,” Will pointed out, suddenly nervous. Even if there weren’t vampires--which surely there wouldn’t be--there could be any number of crazy fools lurking about.

Buffy shrugged. “My plans don’t always work out very well. Improvising works better.”

“Ookay,” Will said. “What should I do while you’re ‘slaying?’”

She seemed to hear the skepticism in his voice because she turned around and faced him with crossed arms. “Look, I get that you don’t believe me but once we’re in there, things are going to get serious. There’s not a whole lot you can do, but take this,” she said, pulling something from inside her sweater and handing it to him. “Pointy end goes in the heart,” she added as he took the wooden stake from her.

“You want me to stab someone in the heart?” Will asked, starting to worry again. He’d seen the guy go poof, but his brain still refused to believe it.

“Not a ‘someone’,” Buffy reminded him in a serious tone. “A demon. Stay behind me, and you’ll be fine.”

Will couldn’t think of anything to say, so he nodded and Buffy continued on toward a mausoleum with a faded inscription above the entrance. Buffy glanced over her shoulder at him and held a finger to her lips. Will gripped the stake she’d given him a little tighter and jumped as she kicked in the stone door.

The interior of the mausoleum was dimly lit but Will couldn’t see anything past Buffy’s form in the doorway. “Who’s ready to party?” he heard her say before she disappeared into the crypt.

Will leapt after her, sure that she was about to be grabbed by criminals or thugs, but a few steps into the crypt he stopped short and stared in disbelief. Buffy was whirling amidst a small group of people dressed in dirty clothes, punching and kicking anyone who got close to her. Most of the group was turned away from him, engaged with Buffy, but Will saw the faces of two of them. They looked just like the thing that had attacked them on campus.

Will took a deep breath and jumped into the fray, Buffy’s words ringing in his head:  _ Pointy end goes in the heart.  _

One of the things spun around as he came up behind it and immediately snarled in his face, baring fangs in a wrinkled visage. Faster than he expected, it snapped out a fist and Will barely managed to duck aside, trying to push past its guard to reach the chest. But though he’d warmed up with Buffy, Will quickly realized that he was outmatched. The thing’s strength far outstripped his own, and when he dodged its first blow it responded with a growl and slammed another fist into his stomach. The wind rushed out of him and he stumbled backwards, barely holding onto the stake. He caught a glimpse of Buffy a few feet from him, now facing only two creatures, apparently having taken down the other two in a matter of seconds. Determination flooded through him, to hold his own and to show Buffy that he wasn’t completely useless. With a growl of his own, Will threw himself at the creature that had punched him, not thinking about his actions, just responding to the movements he faced. After dodging a few blows (and taking one in the shoulder), the creature’s guard slipped and Will thrust the stake at the thing’s chest, hoping he remembered exactly where the heart was.

There was a jolt up his arm as the stake struck bone, a horrible grinding sound reaching his ears as it slipped between the ribcage, and then the creature before him screeched horribly and dissolved into dust before his eyes.

Will stared, hardly trusting his own senses as the remains of the--the vampire settled onto the concrete floor of the mausoleum. Distantly he heard Buffy continue fighting, but his attention was fixed on the small pile of ashes in front of his feet. He dropped to his knees, the dust spreading out in a small cloud from the rush of air his movement caused. He saw his hand reach out and jerked back when his fingers connected with the soft particles.

“See? Told you they--Spike?”

Will looked up and saw Buffy watching him with an expression of concern. “You okay?” she asked.

His gaze drifted back to the ashes and he cleared his throat. “We cremated my mum,” was all he said.

“Oh,” Buffy said softly. He didn’t look at her. When she’d told him that vampires were real, he’d focused on the impossibility of the supernatural. He’d completely bypassed the “poof” she’d mentioned, not thinking what that meant in terms of actual remains.

Buffy crouched beside him and laid her hand cautiously on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Spike. I didn’t know...it just didn’t occur to me.”

“‘S not your fault,” Will muttered, fingers brushing the pile of ashes again. “Not like you didn’t warn me this is what happens.”

“That doesn’t make it not hurt,” Buffy replied, and Will felt her hand creep around his arm and squeeze gently. “But hey. You did good, for a regular human.”

That got his attention. “Regular human? Are you not--”

“Oh I’m human,” Buffy said quickly. “I’ve just got a few perks that regular humans don’t. Strength. I don’t bruise easy. Heal fast. That sort of thing.”

“You’re like a superhero,” Will chuckled weakly. He was starting to put distance between the ashes in front of him and those sitting in an urn at his dad’s house. He’d helped arrange the cremation when his mum passed, but he hadn’t been there when it happened and he hadn’t touched the urn once his dad brought it home.

“I guess you can look at it like that,” Buffy agreed. Will could hear her smile. “Are you ready to go?”

Will took a deep breath, pushing away further thoughts of his mother. “Sure.”

He let Buffy haul him to his feet, and then he looked around the small crypt. The dim light came from a few candles that were set up around the edges of the room, and by their light he could see a few bodies that hadn’t turned to dust. 

“What are--” he began, before he realized what was causing the candlelight to reflect back to him. “Oh, bloody hell.” He felt his stomach turn as he took in the sight of three human corpses piled together, necks exposed, bloody and raw. He broke away from Buffy and rushed out of the crypt, back into the fresh night air. He leaned against a nearby gravestone and breathed deeply, willing himself not to throw up.

“Shit, Spike, I’m really sorry,” Buffy repeated, running a hand over his back as she came up behind him. “I should’ve warned you about--well about a lot of things, I guess. Are you alright?”

“Right as rain,” Will panted, feeling the cool stone beneath his palms.

“Jeez, I’m not doing a very good job tonight,” Buffy mused. His stomach mostly settled, Will stood upright and looked down at Buffy. Her cheeks were flushed from the fight, but she didn’t look hurt anywhere Will could see. He’d barely managed the one vampire, but Buffy looked only vaguely put out after taking down four.

“I dunno,” Will said, bringing a smile to his face. “I’d say you did pretty good against those things.”

Buffy smiled back, clearly relieved that Will was feeling more himself. “That was nothing. I’ve handled way worse before. But Giles would be pissed if he knew I brought along a newbie and didn’t give them a big heads up.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Giles?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.

“My Watcher,” Buffy explained. “He teaches at SU.”

“I’m aware of that,” Will said slowly, his mind conjuring up an image of Giles leaning against a desk and talking about Shakespeare. “He’s one of my professors.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “You’re in Giles’ class?” She smacked her forehead. “Duh! You said you had an  _ English  _ English professor. I really need to pay more attention.”

“You’re telling me Giles knows about vampires?” Will asked, unable to reconcile the thoughts in his head.

“More than vampires,” Buffy said with a nod. “He’s, like, my demon librarian. He’s been training me for almost four years now.”

“Dr Rupert Giles is your demonic librarian trainer  _ and  _ a professor of Shakespeare?”

“He has varied interests,” Buffy smiled. “You should ask him about his teenage years sometime. They are unbelievable.”

“After tonight, I don’t think anything is unbelievable,” Will said, rubbing his face with his hands. “Those were  _ vampires _ .” He gestured back toward the mausoleum where five creatures were now piles of dust.

“So you believe me now?” Buffy asked, looking hopeful as she twisted the hem of her sweater.

It’d be easier to say no, Will realized. If he refused to believe what he’d just seen, experienced, he could walk away from Buffy and never speak to her again. He could go back to just being a poetry student with a dead mum. Never see Buffy again…

“Yeah,” Will said. “I believe you.” When she grinned, he went on hurriedly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wish I didn’t. Vampires? None of this makes any sense, but I haven’t got any other explanation for what happened in there.” He jerked his thumb toward the mausoleum. “So, yeah. I don’t think you’re starkers anymore.”

“I’m glad,” Buffy said, still smiling at him. The night was dark and the dimly lit cemetery wasn’t helping much, but Will thought he saw a glint in Buffy’s eyes, and he remembered what she’d said about fighting.

“Are you, er, still…” he trailed off, the awkwardness of his question hitting him. “Never mind.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow and her smile turned into a smirk. “Am I still...hot from the fight? Or were you going to ask something more in line with what you just saw?”

Fortunately, it was dim enough that Will doubted Buffy could see much of his flushed face. “Er, I feel like the moment, if that’s what it was earlier, is mostly gone now.”

“If you’re still a little upset from...you know, I can just walk you home.” Buffy looked as though this wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but Will could tell she was trying to be sensitive. Much to his annoyance, this bugged him, but he wasn’t about to complain that she cared about him.

“Walk me home, then,” he said, trying to summon the feelings of lust he’d had earlier in the evening. If he let Buffy just drop him off at his apartment like a chaperone, he’d probably regret it. And as Buffy took his hand and led him back to campus, the sight of her legs extending from the short skirt was quickly reminding him of what had brought him out tonight in the first place.


	6. Nightmares and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike grapples with the whole vampire revelation and seeks information

By the time they made it back to Will’s apartment, his libido had dropped again. What with watching the trees for vampires and noticing dust on his trousers and shoes, the mood had been officially banished. He grimaced as he turned to Buffy outside his building, not wanting to disappoint her but also not feeling up for anything like what they’d done in the graveyard. Either one, for that matter.

“Listen--” he began as he looked down into her face, but she raised a hand to stop him.

“We’re done for the night?” she asked, shrewd eyes taking in his reluctance.

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

Buffy chuckled. “You don’t have to apologize. I dropped a lot of crap on you tonight, it’s not surprising that it was a turn off.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Will said, eager to make sure she understood where he was coming from. “I’d still like to--to see you again, but I think I just need some time to...adapt.”

For a second, Will was sure he saw a glint of disappointment in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a soft look that gave him the fuzzies.

“No problem.” Buffy smiled at him, and seemed to hesitate. The lampposts gave her a yellow glow, which added further depth to her blonde hair, and Will again found himself thinking that she was beautiful. Poem-worthy. “Well. Good night, Spike.”

“Night, Buffy,” he said, before leaning down and kissing her. He felt her freeze for a moment as his lips pressed to hers, but she then relaxed and kissed him back. It was short, and sweet, and one of his favorite kisses of the night.

He straightened up and watched as she walked away. Not toward the dorms, but back toward town. He was confused for a brief moment before he remembered, with a jolt, that she was a vampire slayer.

Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.

* * *

Will was haunted that night. He watched in terror as Buffy fought ten vampires at once, whirling with speed as she kept them at bay. He saw Liam getting bitten by a vampire, his friend’s handsome face contorting in pain.

He saw his mother, features twisted into those of a monster. He watched as Buffy launched herself toward the creature-that-was-and-wasn’t-his-mum, as she swung a large sword at her neck. As she turned into an explosion of dust, but not before her eyes met his with a look of fear and sadness.

He woke the next morning drenched in sweat. He half wanted to skip his two poetry classes, but it was still the first week and he knew that he’d feel shitty if he did. So he dragged himself to the shower before leaving the apartment. He had to double back, though, and peek his head into Liam’s room. A knot in his chest eased when he saw his friend sleeping safely in his bed, sheets twisted around his naked torso.

He made his way distractedly to his first class, where he had nothing to share. He’d completely forgotten to get any writing done, and certainly couldn’t bring himself to bash something out as he sat there and listened to the professor drone on about another student’s latest attempt at modern poetry. When the class ended, he dashed out in relief, but then stood in the hall. After that disaster of a class, he didn’t really feel like going to the next one, even if the professor would give him shit about missing.

He let himself be swept through the sunny halls out into the nearest courtyard, and sat on a low wall. The students around him carried on, oblivious to the racing that was going on in Will’s head, which consisted roughly of  _ vampires vampires vampires _ on a loop.

What the hell was he supposed to do with this information? Last night, he’d been too shocked to think about what this revelation meant. Vampires were real. Demons were real. Hell was real? Did that mean heaven was real too? What else existed out there, werewolves? Swamp monsters?

He leaned forward on his knees and clutched his head, unable to think straight. He needed someone to talk to. Buffy was an obvious option, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to show her how fucked up he was over what she’d shown him.

“Giles,” he muttered suddenly, straightening up. He’d almost forgotten that Buffy had mentioned Giles as her demon librarian training master, or something like that. Will might not be able to reconcile his mental picture of stuffy British Giles with Buffy’s description of him, but he was better than nothing.

Not knowing where else to look for the man, Will headed toward where he met for his Shakespeare class. He didn’t know Giles’ schedule, but if the man wasn’t teaching right then he could always ask the academic affairs office for Giles’ contact information. Which wouldn’t be weird at all, but if he played the British angle, it might work.

Luckily, when he arrived at the classroom, Giles was inside lecturing a bunch of freshmen. Will sighed and checked his watch. He had time to catch his other professor and let them know he wasn’t feeling up to class that day.

His professor didn’t seem eager to believe him, but she accepted his excuses and told him to feel better. Privately, Will thought he’d feel better if he didn’t have more of last night’s dreams.

Returning to Giles’ room, he had another five minutes before the class would let out. He settled down on a nearby bench and pulled out a notebook, intending to scribble aimlessly. But he found himself drawn into a mood, one reminiscent of the horror he’d felt at seeing his mother burst into ash. He followed the thread of that mood and wrote a few lines. They didn’t quite capture the full scope of the nightmare, but they weren’t bad either. He could probably use them in his composition class next week. 

The door of the classroom banged open and students poured out, chattering amongst themselves. Will waited until the last few trickled out and then hurried into the room.

Giles was gathering papers at the desk and almost shoving them into his briefcase. He looked up as Will approached and surprise crossed his face.

“Will? I’m surprised to see you. Did you have a question about one of the texts?” Giles asked politely, which Will was realizing was his default mode of expression.

“Actually I had questions about vampires,” Will said blithely, and his turmoil was briefly broken when Giles swept some papers hard enough that they flew off the desk. He actually managed to chuckle.

“Sorry, did-did you say vampires?” Giles bent slowly to retrieve his fallen papers but kept his eyes fixed on Will.

“I did, yeah.” Will crossed his arms and leaned against a table. “Heard that vampires and demons are sort of your bag, professor.”

Giles stood up with narrowed eyes. “Who told you such a--such a preposterous thing?”

“Come on, Rupes,” Will scoffed, feeling that given the circumstances he could use the man’s first name. “Don’t play coy. Your little Slayer told me all about it.”

At this, Giles froze, hands stilled on his briefcase. He seemed torn with how to respond, as though part of him thought he could deny it all to Will’s face. But in the end, he sagged with defeat.

“Buffy really needs to work on subterfuge,” he sighed, removing his glasses and polishing them.

“Best not to deny it,” Will said. “Saw it myself last night.”

“She actually took you hunting?” Giles looked alarmed and Will was suddenly concerned that he was getting Buffy in trouble.

“Well, yeah, but only after one attacked us,” he offered in defense. “Couldn’t really keep it a secret after one poofed before my eyes.”

“She failed to mention this to me,” Giles muttered, seeming only mildly put out. He sighed again and looked at Will. “You said you had questions?”

Will’s mother flashed before his eyes. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded curtly.

“Very well.” Giles gathered his things and headed to the door. “But I need a cup of tea.”

* * *

Giles’ flat was not what Will had expected. The fact that it was off campus wasn’t surprising, but given what little Will knew of the man he’d thought there would be weapons, or herbs and black books. But it was actually a simple place, two levels, not much in the way of decor. There was a pretty impressive record collection that Will wanted to peruse but he settled for sitting on the couch and waiting as Giles made tea.

“Now then,” he said, finally setting a tray of tea and biscuits on the coffee table. “What exactly happened last night that Buffy felt it was necessary to let you in on the existence of vampires?”

Will’s thoughts flashed to their spar in the graveyard and where the night  _ almost _ went before shaking his head and accepting a cuppa.

“We were walking about, and out of nowhere this fucked up bloke comes charging out of the bushes and knocks us over,” Will explained, remembering his deep confusion at the event. “Buffy kept me out of the way and then poofed him. Didn’t want to believe it at first, even though it happened right before my bloody eyes, but finally I had to accept that she wasn’t lying to me. After that she got all excited and offered to prove it to me again, let me see more of ‘em. Took me to a different graveyard, one that had a--a nest I think she called it?”

“That is what we call them, yes,” Giles murmured, sipping his tea quietly. His eyes were fixed on Will as he spoke and his intense gaze reminded Will of Buffy, oddly enough.

“Right, so she took me out there, gave me a stake, I guess, and let loose on the lot of them.” Will shook his head, remembering the chaos of the mausoleum. “She’s a bloody wonder, she is. Took down four of the bastards where I barely got the one.”

“You managed to take one down?” Giles looked very surprised, as though not expecting Will to have survived the encounter, let alone kill a vampire.

He puffed up just a little. “I did, yeah. Not that it was easy, or enjoyable, but I held my own well enough.”

“Impressive,” Giles said, seeming to inspect Will closely. “I will say, you’re not the first person Buffy has included in her missions, but you are one of the few who has managed to keep up with her.”

A jolt of jealousy rocketed through Will with the knowledge that he wasn’t the first person Buffy had shared this with. Of course, it made sense if she’d been doing this since high school, and who was he anyway? Just a bloke she’d met a few days ago, nobody important.

“Thanks for that, Rupes,” he said wryly, finally taking a sip of tea. It was good, actually, though he hadn’t drunk much tea since emigrating to the states.

“Did you actually have questions or did you just want to shock me?” Giles asked as he snagged a biscuit from the tray and bit down. 

The jealousy swam away as Will’s nightmares came back to him, and with them all the worry he’d felt that morning.

“Erm, right,” he hemmed awkwardly. “Guess I’m just curious how vampires work. Buffy said something about demons in their bodies?”

A sad look crossed Giles’ face. “Yes,” he said softly. “Yes. Vampires are demons that have replaced the soul of a human. They look human, when they’re not hunting or fighting anyway, and have most of the same needs as humans. Food, relationships, that sort of thing. But they’re not human, not really.”

“That’s what she told me. Repeatedly, in fact.”

Giles grimaced. “Yes, she is rather sensitive to the, erm, inhumanity of vampires.”

“Cause of that bloke in high school?” Will asked, and again Giles glanced at him in surprise.

“She told you about that?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“It was...a difficult time for her,” Giles said, and Will understood that he was grossly understating the situation, but didn’t press him. “Since then, she has been more vehement about not treating vampires as people.”

They were both quiet for a few moments, Giles probably remembering the whole ordeal and Will grappling with the idea of a human body not being really human.

“So, there’s more than just vampires and demons?” he asked at last, the silence only leading him to memories of his nightmares.

“Quite,” Giles replied with a grimace. “There are all sorts of demons, from the ones everyone has heard of to those that only seem to exist in texts until they attack.”

“‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here,’ eh?” Will snorted into his tea at the thought, feeling more giddy than scared in that moment.

Giles smiled. “Pretty much. Since you mention  _ Tempest _ , it’s worth noting that magic is real as well.”

“What, really?” 

“Indeed. Witches, wizards, sorcerers. All quite real, though not as childish as literature makes it seem at times,” Giles added with a smirk.

“Bloody hell.” Will could feel himself reaching a limit to how much of this new information he could handle, but he remembered another little aside Buffy had made. “Buffy mentioned that the whole ‘slayer’ thing was like some sort of destiny, but that there weren’t any other slayers. What happened to them?”

“There is actually one other Slayer,” Giles said. He stood up and returned to the kitchen, where Will couldn’t see him. “A girl named Faith, though she protects another city.”

“So it’s not a one in, one out situation then?” he called toward Giles.

“It is, actually,” was the mild reply. “Buffy died.”

If Will had been sipping his tea, he would have choked on it. “Sorry,  _ what _ ?”

Giles came out of the kitchen and stood watching Will. “A few years ago. She was battling a master vampire, quite the ordeal. It was the first big challenge she faced as a Slayer.” The look of reminiscing returned to Giles’ face as he spoke, and there was pain in his voice. “She drowned, you see. She was resuscitated, but it was enough for the universe to decide to call another Slayer. And so Faith came into this destiny.”

“Jesus,” Will whispered hoarsely. The image of his mum was pushed out by a picture of Buffy lying in a pool of water, still and lifeless.

“Quite,” Giles agreed quietly. “It is a dangerous calling, make no mistake. But Buffy was called, and so it is what she must do.”

“How often?”

Giles shook himself out of his reverie and looked at Will. “Pardon?” 

Will cleared his throat, and elaborated. “How often are Slayers called?” It was the only way he could think to ask his question without saying the words.

Giles’ eyes crinkled in understanding and he removed his glasses. “It varies. Sometimes it can be years, though rarely more than--more than ten. Sometimes it’s less. Much less.”

Will shut his eyes and dug the heels of his hands into them until he saw spots behind his eyelids. “Ten years,” he repeated.

“I try not to think about it, to be perfectly honest.” Giles’ voice was thick, and Will kept his head down, not wanting to embarrass him by witnessing his grief.

“Can’t bloody blame you.”

Silence followed as the two men stewed in their own private thoughts. Will thought again of how intense last night had been, from the graveyard spar to the exploding demons. And through it all, he thought of Buffy, the girl with golden hair and a sweet smile. And a sense of humor. And a wicked left jab.

So he decided that, even if it meant constant danger and distress, Will wanted time with the Slayer. As much as she would give him.


	7. Independent Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets his ass handed to him and he likes it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: contains discussion of rape in literature (shakespeare, titus andronicus)

Will didn’t allow himself to contact Buffy that day. After leaving Giles’ flat, he returned to his apartment and settled down on his bed to stare at the ceiling. Occasionally, he scribbled a few lines down when inspiration hit, but they were all incredibly morbid and depressing. Which matched his mood, certainly, but was a far cry from his usual poetry.

He heard when Liam got home from class, banging around in the kitchen, probably hunting a snack. When his friend knocked on his bedroom door, he grunted an invitation. Liam wandered in with a bag of chips and looked down where he was sprawled on his bed.

“So, you’ve had a good day,” Liam observed before collapsing down by Will’s legs. “What’s up, Spike?”

Will glared at his friend but saw only slight teasing in his use of the nickname. He went back to staring at the ceiling. “Just a lot to think about, s’all,” he grumbled. 

Liam leaned on his legs companionably. With a sudden flash, Will remembered how, when he and Liam had first met, they’d given an actual relationship a go. It hadn’t worked out, but they’d remained friends. More than anyone, Will confided in Liam, and not telling him about Buffy and vampires felt weird. But to tell him would be to put Liam in potential danger, and after his nightmares, Will didn’t want that.

“Is it the girl still?” Liam asked, voice turning more serious as he took in Will’s sudden grimace.

Will sighed. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Damn. Never seen you like this before,” Liam said. “Did your graveyard date not go well last night?”

“Oh it was fine,” Will told him, remembering the good parts. “It was what happened later that’s bugging me.”

“Oh?” Liam waggled his dense eyebrows, and Will kicked him.

“Shut it,” he muttered. “Point is...I think I’m in trouble.” He stared resolutely at the ceiling.

“What?” Liam’s confusion was obvious, but after a few moments his eyes widened in realization. “Are you  _ serious _ ? You’ve known her for all of three days, man, what the hell?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know!” Will protested. Though he wouldn’t say the words aloud, he was glad Liam knew what he was trying to say: that he already cared about Buffy too much for this to be a fling. It was some combination of her beauty, her skill, and his lust, but Will could tell he was sunk.

“Well, shit.” Liam’s words didn’t quite sum up the depth of the situation. He shifted on Will’s legs. “This’ll make class tomorrow interesting, won’t it?”

* * *

When Will arrived at Giles’ class the next morning, he was restless. He’d see Buffy again today, and he was torn between excitement and fear. Excitement for obvious reasons, but fear for less obvious: his feelings, her calling, his speculations about  _ her  _ feelings. However, he’d had no nightmares the previous night, and he felt better having distance between the present and the horrors that had confronted him in his sleep.

Giles gave him a friendly nod when he walked in and sat down, which Will belatedly returned. He decided to really focus on the lecture today as it would distract him from everything else going on in his mind.

“As you will have read, assuming you did in fact do the reading,” Giles began as the class settled in. “You will recall that Lavinia has been raped by Tamora’s sons. They were urged on by Aaron, Tamora’s lover, and raped her in the forest during a hunt. Now, aside from Aaron’s egging, why did Demetrius and Chiron rape her?”

The other students chimed in with obvious answers: to get back at Titus and his family, as well as the Roman establishment as a whole. Will heard one student, a sophomore he thought, comment that one reason they did it was because the two men claimed to love Lavinia.

“And why, if they claim to love her, would they rape and dismember her?” Giles asked in response to that statement.

“Conflating love with lust,” Will offered. Giles smiled, apparently pleased that he was participating today.

“Yeah, they start out that way,” said a girl whose name Will hadn’t bothered to remember. “But when they’re ready to start dragging her off, they don’t disguise what they’re doing as out of love anymore.”

“An excellent point, Leah,” Giles commented with a nod to the girl. “I would keep that in mind for some of the plays we will read later on this semester, as the various rapists we will read about sometimes hide their true motivations for much longer.”

The discussion continued in that vein for some time, and Will did his best to stay focused, he really did. He occasionally was able to muster up a point to add but for the most part he just listened. His mind didn’t often wander to Buffy, but each time it did he had to wrestle his thoughts back to the topic at hand. Which wasn’t the most fun thing to think about.

“Very good, all,” Giles said as the end of class approached. “Please read through to act 4 of  _ Titus _ and prepare to discuss. I’ll have you write a short paper, due next Friday, on a topic relating to this class. Please have a sample thesis statement ready to show me by Monday so I can approve your subject.”

There was bustling as the other students gathered their stuff and filed out. One of the underclassmen stopped and talked to Giles for a bit, and Will dawdled. He wanted to at least make sure with Giles that everything they’d talked about yesterday was real. Had actually happened.

The student moved on and Will met Giles’ eyes. The older man smiled and leaned against his desk, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“How are you today, Will?” he asked kindly.

Will hesitated over a generic response before deciding honesty was more appropriate. “Still a bit spooked to be honest,” he admitted. “Bit of a kicker, learning the world is different.”

“Unfortunately, I wouldn’t know,” said Giles, smile turning wry. “My father was a Watcher, and his mother before him, so this sort of life is all I’ve ever known.”

“Helluva childhood, I imagine,” Will observed. He felt if he’d known about vampires as a kid he’d never have left the house.

“It wasn’t all bad. I learned a bit of magic growing up--”

“What, you’re a wizard?” Will interrupted.

“Not exactly,” Giles coughed and fidgeted his glasses. “I can perform spells out of books, within reason of course, but nothing all that grand.”

“Wait, that reminds me,” Will said, suddenly remembering something Buffy had said after the vampire attack. “Buffy said to ask you about your teenage years. What all did you get up to?”

Giles coughed more loudly and straightened up, beginning to put papers into his briefcase. “That is a story for another time, I’m afraid. Don’t you have another class to get to?”

Will smiled broadly. “It must’ve been a riot, then.”

Giles turned to look at him over the rim of his glasses. “Another time,” he insisted, and walked toward the door. Will followed and they paused in the hallway.

“Could always go out for a pint,” Will suggested. It felt weird to invite a teacher out for a pint, but...if Will were being honest, it had been a long time since he’d connected with someone older than him. Someone his dad’s age.

Giles blinked at him before smiling lightly. “Alright then,” he agreed. “But not at the campus pub, their tap is ridiculous. There’s a much better one in downtown Sunnydale, or at least as downtown as it gets around here,” he added in a mutter. “Perhaps tomorrow evening?”

“See you then, Watcher,” Will said, and Giles rolled his eyes. 

“You are less ridiculous than Buffy, but still rather ridiculous.” Giles lifted a hand in farewell and headed off in the direction opposite of Will’s next class.

As he headed toward the gym, Will’s stomach was a bundle of nerves. It felt like he’d swallowed snakes and in protest they were writhing around in his innards. Liam was waiting for him by the doors, and after one glance at Will’s expression of tense excitement, he clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’ll be fine, man, just keep those squishy feelings on lockdown for a while, yeah?” his friend muttered in his ear as they headed inside.

“Right, yeah,” Will breathed, eyes already searching for Buffy in the crowd of other students.

He spotted her easily, golden hair pulled back and shining, where she stood with Willow and Tara. Will saw when Willow had noticed him, because she then nudged Buffy gently and nodded in his direction. Buffy smiled carefully when she met his eyes and Will swallowed forcibly as Liam steered him toward the girls.

“Morning, ladies,” Liam said smoothly, depositing Will at Buffy’s side.

“Hi, Liam, Spike,” Tara greeted him softly.

“Have I told you how much I enjoy that nickname?” Liam asked with a grin.

Will tuned him out as he looked at Buffy. “Morning,” he said a little hoarsely.

Buffy’s smile softened as she looked at him. “Hey, Spike. Um, how are you?”

He could tell that she was asking for more than his health. He glanced at the other three and stepped a little closer to her. He could smell her shampoo, a strong vanilla scent, heady in his nostrils.

“All in all, not bad,” he admitted, looking down into her eyes. “Still a bit shook, but I didn’t have nightmares last night at least.” He saw a flash of guilt on her face.

“Sorry about the nightmares,” she said as she looked away. “If it makes you feel any better, I still get them.”

“I’m sure you do,” Will replied quietly. His thoughts turned to what Giles had said about the average Slayer lifespan and his heart gave a painful twist. “How’re your classes going, then?” he asked abruptly.

“Not bad,” Buffy said, latching on to the next topic gratefully. “The notes in your book are actually helping me understand what the heck I’m reading, so thanks again for that.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, but with that he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He saw Liam watching them from where he stood with the two girls, and Liam probably saw the awkward tension in his face because his friend spoke up.

“So how was your date the other night?” Liam asked and Will felt a strong urge to smack the man. Instead he glanced down at Buffy and met her cautious eyes.

“Pretty good,” she said slowly, apparently gauging his reaction. “Actually not the first date I’ve had in a graveyard but one of the more interesting ones anyway.”

“You hang out in graveyards a lot, do you?”

Liam’s question made Buffy tense, but before Will could jump in with anything to redirect his attention, Buffy said coolly, “Yeah, actually. Just call me She Who Hangs Out in Graveyards.”

“Bit of a mouthful, that,” Will interjected lightly before Liam could add any more stupidity to the conversation. “Seems to me ‘Buffy’ works just fine for a name.”

“I mean I suppose--” Liam began, despite the frustrated look Will was giving him, but it was Tara’s turn to intercede.

“I think class is starting,” she said just loud enough for them all to hear. Will glanced toward the front of the mass of students and saw the coach gesturing for their attention.

Their little group turned and listened, mostly, as he rambled on about the day’s instruction. Will again looked down at Buffy’s blonde head and saw that she was fiddling with her ponytail, like a nervous tic. Without thinking he reached down and gently pulled the hair from her fingers. He felt her freeze and let go, but not without hearing her sudden intake of breath.

_ Well _ , he thought as his mind immediately returned to the events in the graveyard the other night.  _ Good to know my fear of vampires hasn’t turned  _ that _ off completely. _

He quickly focused on the coach’s words, redirecting his attention to something that wouldn’t make things more awkward, but found that the man was already done explaining what they were to do that day.

“Partners again?” Buffy asked, turning to face him. Her green eyes glittered in the fluorescent lights, and there was almost a challenge in the set of her jaw.

“Let’s do it,” Will said, affecting a teasing bow. 

As they squared off, he didn’t pay attention to who Liam partnered with. He didn’t pay attention to Willow and Tara as they moved a few feet away. In fact, he tuned out the rest of the gym as he stared at Buffy over his readied fists.

“Shall we dance?” Will murmured as the coach blew his whistle. Buffy struck.

Like their fight in the graveyard, Will was amazed at the way Buffy moved. She didn’t try to hide her skill like she had in their previous bouts, and all he could do was try to block as she flurried around him. Her hair whipped around as they fought, and it occasionally grazed his skin, the ends sharp against his arms.

He managed to land a few blows--a very few--that produced satisfying grunts from Buffy when they hit, but she made it past his block far more than he did hers. Eventually the whistle blew again, and they halted, breath coming fast as they stared at each other.

Buffy hadn’t even broken a sweat, and he felt heat in his veins as his thoughts surged away from their surroundings. She smiled at him, a fiendish smile that promised equal measures of pain and pleasure, but a cough tore his eyes away from her.

The coach stood there watching them with a smirk on his face. His gesture took in both of them. “Look, I don’t know why you two bothered taking this class. Or I guess I do, but I suppose it’s none of my business if you wanted an easy elective.” Will offered a sheepish smile and saw Buffy do the same, but the coach waved it away. “Whatever. But it’s getting a bit much to have you carry on the way you are while the rest of the class is going through the basics. I can’t make you drop the class, but what I  _ can  _ do is make you use the smaller gym.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward a door along the far wall.

“What?” Buffy looked as confused as he felt.

“Think of it as independent study,” said the coach. “You still have to show up every time the class meets, check in with me, whatever, but then just take your fighting into the gym over there. I’ll keep an eye on you, in case either of you gets hurt--which seems unlikely,” he added in a mutter. “But the rest of these kids won’t focus if they’ve got you to watch.”

Will and Buffy glanced at each other at the same time. He saw her tilt an eyebrow and nodded in response, which got him another delightful smile.

“Sounds good, coach,” Will said, trying not to let the glee ring too loudly in his voice.

“Fine, then get over there. Still got forty minutes to go today.”

Will and Buffy collected their things and headed toward the smaller gym. He mouthed “later” when Liam looked questioningly at him, to which his friend rolled his eyes. He held the door open for Buffy and couldn’t help inhaling as she passed, breathing in her delicious scent once again.

Their “independent study” gym was smaller and older, with creaky wood floors and chipped paint on the walls. 

“Right cozy, this,” Will observed as he slung his bag to the ground by the door.

“Reminds me of my old high school gym,” Buffy said absently as she looked around. She caught his eye and grinned. “Before I burned it down anyway.”

“You burned down your gym?” Will asked incredulously. “Wait, lemme guess: vampires?”

Buffy blushed and laughed. “Yeah, actually. And it didn’t totally burn down, by the way. Just got a little singed.”

“You’re just full of surprises, Buffy,” he told her, running fingers through his hair. “Shall we, then?” He gestured between them and her eyes lit up again.

“Bring it on, Spike.”

So they fought. His mind was a frustrating blur as they spun together, frustrating because he wanted to remember every second of this. The heat of her body when she got close for a jab, the feel of her hair as it bit his skin, the way the smile stayed on her face throughout the bout. She loved fighting. It was easy to see, especially when a little sound of joy escaped her lips. 

He didn’t know how long they’d been trading blows, but Will was starting to need a break. A stupid part of him told him no, however. No, he couldn’t stop before she did, even though his brain pointed out that she was the Slayer and was literally made for fighting. He pushed himself, urging his muscles to not give up even as they started to scream at him. He thought for a moment that Buffy was striking harder than before, but attributed it to his slowing down.

Right up until she ducked one of his blows and slammed a palm into his stomach. The air rushed out of him as he went flying backward, falling hard on the wooden floor and sliding a few feet. He gasped as he stared up at the aged ceiling, ears ringing. He felt more than heard Buffy rush to his side, and then she was there, gazing down at him with fear and guilt sketched over her face.

“Oh my god, Spike, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to--” Her words tumbled out as she pushed escaped hair back from her face. There was a sheen on her forehead and her eyes were still shiny with exertion. His gaze fell to her chest, where he could see that she wasn’t breathing nearly as hard as he had before she’d knocked him over.

She was still spitting out apologies and explanations as he pushed himself up. He didn’t even hesitate before putting his hand behind her head, and then he was pulling her to him, lips once again on the mouth that smiled so beautifully at him.

His ringing ears filtered the sound, but he heard Buffy moan lightly as she kissed him back. The arousal that had burned low during their fight flared completely now, and it took all his willpower to remember where they were and that it would be a Bad Idea to act on each of his impulses.

The kiss didn’t last long before they broke apart, foreheads resting together as they breathed on each other. 

“So,” Buffy huffed, breath warm on his lips. “Guess this means you don’t mind me being the Slayer.”

“Why would I mind?” he asked, arousal making him more than a little unfocused.

Buffy pulled away from him, and he felt a spark of greed. He wanted her close, but he remained still as she looked at him.

“You wouldn’t be the first guy to go all ‘fragile masculinity’ on me,” she explained, fingers twitching toward his hand but not reaching. “Apparently it’s a big turn  _ off _ when I beat up a boyfriend.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Am I a boyfriend?” His heart stuttered at the thought.

Buffy blushed and looked away. “I mean I did just punch you to the floor.”

Will managed a shrug as the memory of that feeling flashed back through him. It was...exhilarating. “I don’t know what sort of tossers you’ve been dating,” he observed casually, watching her face. “But I found it exciting.”

She peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “Seriously?” She genuinely sounded as though she doubted his sincerity.

With a slight cough and a tiny nod toward his lap, he drew her attention to just how exciting he found it. “You can handle yourself. And me, apparently, which I assure you I have no problem with.”

“Oh,” Buffy breathed. She seemed not to know where she should look. Eventually she raised her face to his and smiled. “First time for everything, I guess.”

“And hopefully not the last,” Will said with a meaningful glance. He was surprising himself with just how forward he was being. If Liam could see him now--well, first it’d be awkward as hell, but then his friend would wonder whether he’d hit his head. Which he had, actually, but he didn’t think that had anything to do with his sudden confidence where Buffy was concerned.

“Want to go another round?” he asked, looking at her and feeling pleasure when she smiled at him.

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint the coach,” she said with a cheeky grin, and stood up to offer him a hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Angel totally got it on at *least* once
> 
> I couldn’t remember if I ever named the coach, and have now decided that he’s just gonna stay nameless

**Author's Note:**

> Referenced: Titus Andronicus, Rape of Lucrece, Measure for Measure (which is the most fucked up one, imo, and the most relevant to spike's arc)


End file.
